Like Cracked Steel
by OliviaKeating
Summary: Bella's older sister Alice tries to shield her from street life, but when Alice is incapacitated Bella takes matters into her own hands. That's when death finds her. He says his name is Hades, and they've met before.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Like Cracked Steel

Description; Bella's older sister Alice tries to shield her from street life, but when Alice is incapacitated Bella takes matters into her own hands. That's when death finds her. His says his name is Hades, and they've met before.

Authors note:

Hey guys. I don't usually put writing online, but might as well start sometime. Give it a shot. Lemmie know what you think. I haven't written much in a while, so still trying to grasp my bearings a bit. Hope ya dig it.

–O.K.

One

Shockingly, Bella had no idea how to sell drugs.

Somehow, after living with a dealer for six weeks, she still wasn't sure how much an ounce of crack even cost. Did they even sell crack by the ounce, or was that weed? Fuck. She pulled her knees up under the edge of her thick army jacket, curling under it in a ball against the brick alley wall.

Think realistically. Logically. Logistics. She had three hours until James got back, and probably about one hour until Alice woke up enough to realize she was missing, but not coherent enough to realize Bella had left a vague note. Fifteen minutes to get back to the apartment, ten more minutes before she was far enough away to be even moderately comfortable enough to just think about the little baggy burning a hole tucked between her underwear and her thigh.

Alice's face stared at her from the backs of her eyelids, eye puffy and purple.

"Hey, uh, you lookin for somethin?" She stuttered, rolling her lips inward as she addressed the two guys across from her, both huddled over some cards. They rolled their gazes toward her, peeking out through mops of thickly dreaded hair.

"Why, you offerin?" The one sneered, eyes traveling from one trembling end of her body to the other.

Way to look tough, Bella, she thought.

"Sixty for an ounce." She said firmly. That sounded right.

The one who'd spoken laughed, "Baby if I'm buyin, it ain't gonna be drugs."

She froze.

The other man, huddled under layered sweaters and blanket capes squinted his eyes from beneath his layered cloth turtle shell; "Hey… Aren't you James's girl? No… no you're that other chick's kid, aren't you? Alison or some shit, right?" He moved to stand, shifting closer, "He know you're out her running his shit?"

She was gone before he had a chance to say another word, launching herself off the ground so fast she fell flat, scrapping the palms of her hands against the wet grit of the street before propelling forward and around the corner, stumbling as she ran.

Bad, bad idea, Bella. Bad bad bad bad idea.

Her lungs burned, her legs finally giving out just as she reached a bench outside a small twenty four hour store. She tugged the top of her jacket over her head as snow speckled her burning cheeks and nose. Her heavy huffs sent fog blasting into the cold air.

She needed to get back to the apartment. She needed to check on Alice, she should have never left her. She should have never done this. There had to be another way to get some cash, just enough for a damn bus ticket.

"Hey."

She turned sharply, expecting one of the guys behind her. Instead it was a thin, lanky blonde guy. His hair crowned his head like a halo, reaching out in thick curls to catch the snow.

"You okay?" He said after a pause.

"Um." Bella stared at him, hand reaching into her pocket for the comfortable weight of her letter opener.

"You, uh, look cold—listen its real late, you need to call someone? We've got a phone inside." He gestured inside the little shop.

 _Yeah and what are you gonna charge for that phone call?_ She thought.

"It's really okay, it's just real cold out here and, shit, no offence but you look awful. You can sit right here by the door, I'll stay behind the counter—I promise." He slid a hand into his hair and ruffled it, eyebrows knit together.

Bella slowly stood, hand firmly clamping the cool handle of the letter opener as she slowly maneuvered to the other side of the bench.

Alice would slap her for this, but in the few minutes she had spent on the bench she had realized just how cold it was getting, too cold to think straight. She just needed a few minutes to warm her blood and get it flowing enough to think of a plan, plus it would be harder to find her in there on the off chance those guys had decided to follow her.

She followed the guy inside, his smile sending cold ice into her stomach.

But he was true to his word, and slipped behind the counter immediately as she began to step through the door.

The TV droned on quietly in the background. Short isles of snack food were poorly lit under the flickering lights, a crate of stock sitting right beside the door. Bella parked herself lightly on top, watching the guy nervously.

"I'm Jasper, by the way."

"Okay." She said.

"You want the phone?"

"No."

"Okay." He picked up the TV remote, flipping through channels slowly.

"I love night shift," He said, "My dad lets me run the shop alone, so I can switch the channel to whatever and no one cares."

So he was one of those types that felt uncomfortable with silence. She felt herself relax a bit, and nodded.

He muted the TV, looking over at her for a moment, "You sure you don't need to call anyone?.."

Yeah, she was sure. _Hello Mr. Policeman, can you assist me home? I seem to have attracted the wrong crowd when I tried to sell two gentleman this fine packet of cocaine, and could really use some assistance returning to my sister and her boyfriend, whom I borrowed the drugs from._

"It's fine, really." She said.

He smiled and nodded.

Bella was starting to feel her fingertips again, and she stood. Alice would be awake soon, and it was obvious she was not cut out to sell narcotics on the street. Her only shot was returning the drugs to James's stash before he realized, and figuring something else out. Soon.

"I should get going. Thanks." She rolled her shoulder as she stood.

"Yeah, hey, wait—" He rushed around the counter and she froze.

"Jesus." His eyes were wide, the package of granola bars falling to the floor as his arms snapped up in surrender. Their eyes locked, her knife blade held posed between them.

"I-I," She stuttered. She wanted to drop the letter opener, but she couldn't. Her arm was locked in place, somewhere between then and now, memories locking the muscles so all they could do was tremble.

"Here," He slowly knelt, watching her as he leaned to pick up the bars and push them across the floor so they scattered at her feet. The knees of his jeans thick with dirt and dust as he rose back up.

Bella knelt, picking up the granola bars and bundling them under her arm, the tip of her knife dropping as she backed slowly. He watched her, eyes hard.

"I'm… I'm so sorry, thank you, really." She whispered, before whipping out back onto the street.

Hands, grabbing. Pressure. Blazing, yellow eyes. Short black hair, picking and pulling. She made it a few meters before slumping against the building and dry heaving into the snow.

 _Alice, yelling, her face millimeters from Bella's own, her tears dropping onto Bella's cheeks and she screamed foggy, static words. Arms pressing Bella's head to Alice's warm chest as it vibrated with sound. Counting the thick veins in Alice's small arm as she rocked Bella and cried._

Bile dropped from Bella's mouth into the snow. The granola bars tumbled around her as she fell.

It was midnight. The occasional headlights flew over like ghosts over Bella's small body, curled into the pillow of snow, pulsing with light like the occasional heartbeat.

Under the foot of built up dirty snow, she was invisible to the world. Shaking, and lost in the past.

She was so cold. She was the cold. Thick and frozen.

Well. She tried.

Tomorrow was going to be hellish. Maybe she'd lucked out and James had been picked up while he was out. Maybe Alice would still be passed out when Bella got back. Maybe the safe would still be opened a crack, just enough to replace the drugs and get the hell out.

She huffed from her nose, blinking snowflakes from her lashes. Hell, Alice was so much smaller—maybe Bella could just drag her out. She'd done it before, anyway, when Alice had camped them out in that building and shot up when she thought Bella was asleep a few summers ago. She hadn't been sleeping, thankfully, or it might have been too late when they finally realized the building had caught on fire. It had been enough for Alice to clean up for a bit, until they ran into James.

Sirens sounded in the distance. Had Bella been cold? She thought so, but her feet were so uncomfortably hot now. She kicked off her boots, burying her socked feet in the cool snow before doing the same with her hands.

She was so tired. She just had to shut her eyes for a second, just one second—enough to erase that hard look in Jasper's eyes as he watched her retreat from his dad's shop. Just enough to think back to curling up against Alice, warm and full…

She awoke to cool hands on her cheeks. Her eyes opened, hooded and lazy as they gazed at the face inches from her own, leaning over her.

Long, bright auburn hair spread like light around a symmetrical jaw line and deep, swirling black eyes framed in thick lashes. Warmth oozed onto her face as she stared into his expectant, searching gaze.

"Are you an angel?" She slurred, lips thick and tongue swollen.

"No," His voice was deep, volcanic, "I'm death."

"Oh." Bella licked her top lip, but couldn't quite get her tongue out entirely, "Shit."

She slipped into the darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note:

Yo. I think I'm gonna aim for ~2500 + words per chapter, once a week from here out. Some people have favorited, followed, and reviewed this story. That's pretty rad for the first chapter of my first story—thanks folks.

Does anyone know how to get a beta reader? Lemmie know in the reviews. Thanks babes 3

On that note, let me know if you see any glaring errors, problems, formatting issues—Hell, lemmie know if you just wanna chat. Cool. See you on the other side.

-O.K.

Two

Bella dreamed of cotton trees and mountain streams, which makes for a fantastic setting when you've seen neither in person.

She wasn't entirely sure what cotton trees actually looked like, or whether cotton even grew on trees. She wanted to think they were puffy sticks spurting out into the sky like smoke stacks, releasing clouds as the winds blew through their puffy tops. A gem blue stream would circle around like a topaz snake, circling the thin roots.

Then the wind blew too hard, blasting a cloud right into her mouth and suddenly the entirety of her bones were too dry, and each time she reached for the water the tide pulled away from her hands. Fruit dropped from the branches, but rolled away as she reached for it.

She got frustrated, screaming at the water as it slipped back, but she chocked on her own dry breath before she managed to make a sound.

"Bella,"

She shook her head, the trees tilted in the wind.

"Bella."  
She awoke.

She took a minute to gather herself, squeezing her eyes tightly as she licked her cracked lips.

Was she still dreaming? It felt like it. She was cushioned in possibly the most comfortable bed she'd ever laid on—not that she had much to compare to.

"Oh man," She moaned, stretching out her sore arms above her head and popping her shoulders. She felt like a child, making snow angels under these glorious fluffy blankets. Something, somewhere, told her she should probably open her eyes and take a look around. She told it to shut up.

"Fuck logic," She grumbled, "Five more minutes."

As she rolled over and tucked her fist full of blanket under her chin, something in the distance made a sound reminiscent of a low laugh.

This time, all she dreamed of was Alice. Screaming.

She jerked up hard enough to yank painfully on her lower back, one hand tightly gripping her own throat as she wildly looked around. Someone was still screaming—Alice. Where was she? She reached wildly on the wall behind her, palming for a light switch, anything to show the source of the screaming—before she realized it had stopped.

Oh. She had been the one screaming. Well then.

Where was she? Bella looked around, but the room was too dark to make anything out beyond the foot of the large bed. Was this a hospital? She'd been in one just once before with Alice following the fire accident, but the beds hadn't been this large.

Oh shit.

"Hello?!" She yelled, struggling to swing her legs out of the low set bed, "Hello? Anyone?"

If this was a hospital, the staff was useless.

"Well, this isn't creepy." She muttered, finally maneuvering out of the bed and taking a step forward—one hand sliding along the wall as a guide.

"Alice? Hello?"

This room was huge. The wall felt cold, almost wet—was that stone? Where the _hell_ was she? She hadn't run into anything so far by sticking close to it, but half of her expected a bat to pop out of a crevice somewhere.

She remembered the drugs. The men. She winced—the guy at the store. Jasper. She'd fallen after running from there, her palms were still scraped from both tumbles. Then… Snow. Oh god, she'd fallen asleep in the snow. She'd laid down, even stripped off her boots, in below zero weather. She'd read about hypothermia, she always thought she'd be smarter than that, aware enough to remember not to fall asleep. One time she'd found an article online about Mount Everest and the bodies left there to be used as landmarks. Green Boots, that was the name that stuck out; just some poor idiot laying in the snow. It'd given her nightmares for days, now she was part of that nightmare.

"Good evening. It's a pleasure to see you awake."

She froze.

All at once, the lights flicked on. A sophisticated, open-floored apartment developed around her. Greyed wood flooring, deep earthy toned wooden chests with glass panels held different artifacts ranging from African looking masks to cracked leather books. A stone fireplace held glowing coals on the other side of the room, beside a small breakfast nook that sat beside the separation wall between the living space and the small kitchen. A leather couch and two leather chairs sat in front of the fireplace, aged and tanned.

It could have passed for an old, rich estate room, if it weren't for the fact the walls— dark, glossy cave walls that reached up into a tall dome over her head, dripping glassy green stalactites.

"I'm dead." She decided aloud.

"Not entirely." Came the voice again. Behind her. She whipped around and gasped, grabbing her shirt and swearing loudly out of reflex. It was like watching a monster slip out from under the bed.

"I apologize. I did not mean to frighten you." He said smoothly.

She backed away, arms crossed and hands gripping her hips, "Yeah, good job."

He looked familiar, the crazed mass of auburn hair and defined jaw leading up to dark, distinct eyes. Like looking into the darkness, thick and deep with the entirety of everything.

That same expectant, searching look appraised her as she stared at him. Volcanic.

"You," she said slowly, "You found me. In the snow. Oh my god, am I seriously dead?"

She had decided on it, but the prospect of having it actually validated was something else entirely. Oh god, what was Alice going to do? She was going to be crushed by this—and James, she would be alone with James. She still had the drugs on her body—wait, had anyone found her body? Was she just going to be left there until spring, a Bella-sicle? No-Boots?

"Please, Bella, calm down. You are not deceased."

She looked back up at the man, who really couldn't have been much older than herself. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties, dressed in a blue button-down and slacks. He spoke like he was from the feudal era, however.

Cool. She wasn't dead. She was just in a fancy cave with quite possibly the most stiff, polite human being ever. Right.

"Please, sit down. You're looking pale." He gestured to the chair, moving to take her elbow.

She stepped away, "Of course I look pale, I just froze to _death."_

"Bella," He was a bit exasperated now, "As I just informed you, you are not deceased. Please, I have some food I can bring out, I will explain all as you eat."

She reluctantly sat down on the leather chair, keeping to the edge. She felt too dirty to be sitting on what looked like a _really_ expensive piece of furniture. It almost seemed fantastical, someone spending so much on something to sit on.

He disappeared and reappeared disturbingly fast from the kitchen. Bella was feeling a bit frantic, though, so it didn't really bother her as much as it probably should have. She was definitely dead, or in limbo—whatever. Something. Hell, he could sprout wings and she probably wouldn't care at this point.

"Scrambled eggs." He said, passing the plate to her.

"Did you lay them yourself?" She asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing." She balanced the plate on her lap. She hadn't realized how hungry she was. She couldn't help but shovel the bits into her mouth. She was half tempted to ditch the fork he'd given her and just go face-first, but death was no excuse for poor manners. That's what Alice would have said, at least.

"You were, indeed, freezing." He said, seating himself on the chair across from her. Bella reflexively reached her opposite around to shield her plate. He frowned.

"I found you in the street, as is my job. However, it is not your time to die." He paused, and she glanced up at him.

"What?" She grumbled around a mouthful of eggs.

He took a deep breath and rubbed his face, before leaning forward.

"Isabella, do you know who you are? Truly?"

She leaned back, what kind of question was that? "Am I dead or not?"

"Isabella," He said slowly, "You can't die."

"Well that's interesting seeing as I'm dead."

"You. Aren't. Dead." He said flatly, running a hand through his hair. It reminded her of the boy at the store.

"Okay. Who are you?" She finally had the presence of mind to ask a real question.

"I am known by many names."

"What a fantastic answer. Pick one." She said flatly. Who was this guy? The Prince of Wales? Fear and exhaustion was making her brave, and she was still mostly convinced this wasn't real.

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. Her eyes flicked up to the curve of his collarbone under his shirt for a moment, muscles peeking out around it.

"Did you hear many stories as a child?"

"You're not very good at diversions."

"You are very stubborn." He replied shortly, "Please, just answer my inquiry."

"Your _inquiry?"_ she snorted, "Yes. My sister read to me."

"You know the mythology of the Greeks?"

"Uhh, sure." She remembered back to some book she had read about a demigod, hadn't a movie come out about it at some point?

"I am Hades. Lord of the dead."

Oh.

Suddenly everything made sense.

She stood, setting the plate down on the chair and carefully edged towards the wall.

"Bella?" He stood up as well.

"Hold up man, it's cool- I believe you. I'm not dead. You're Hades. It's cool." _You're just batshit insane, but no worries man. I'll just be on my way._

She smiled, or tried to, "Um, listen, thank you… Hades, for finding me and all, but my sister is probably looking for me so I'll just head out…" She saw the door now, to her left beyond him and the fireplace. She inched for it, desperately wishing she knew where he'd put her jacket and, consequently, her letter opener. But she'd awoken without it, and had to do this the weird way. She could feel the fear sneaking up into her gut a bit—she wasn't good at getting out of these situations. She never had been.

"Bella—" He moved towards her, and she dodged, running towards the door and gripping the large steel handle with both hands.

"Wait!"

He grabbed for her, but it was too late. She swung the door open and took two steps outside before freezing.

A cool, pleasant breeze brushed her hair. Waves of nearly translucent, golden grass shimmered and waved in front of her, each blade at least as high as her waist. They dipped and rose, pulling back and forth as one entity for as far as she could see, responding to the tides of some invisible moon. Above her, the sky was closer to looking into an LED light, blindingly bright and white.

A large, burly black furry head with a long drooling tongue and folded skin surrounding a massive, toothy mouth rose from the sea of flicking grass. Something like a Rottweiler mixed with a hound, its red eyes trained on her. She was frozen in her spot. Its tongue lolled out lazily, before it reared forward and let out one loud, resounding woof.

Then another head rose from the grass.

And another.

Three identical heads, rising from the field like a beast from the deep, all attached to the same, massive seven-or-so foot tall body that rippled with cord-like muscle. One long, slick tall whipped back and forth behind it, as thick as a tree trunk.

It started to pound forward toward her, lifting one massive paw and slamming it down on the grass. She broke out of her frozen state and screamed, wheeling back and running back inside, slamming the door shut behind her and dodging across the room into the kitchen, falling onto her butt and backing into the corner. The heavy oak door shock with the force of the beast knocking into it, whining loudly.

"Wha, what kind of, what was that?!" She heaved, gasping for breath.

Hades, or whatever he was, appeared in the room, kneeling in front of her.  
"I told you to wait," He said, "The beast means no harm."

She laughed, aghast.

"Truly." He promised, black eyes peaked from behind a film of reddish fringe; "Please, will you listen now?"

"I just saw a three-headed werebeast," She laughed again, feeling a bit insane, "Oh god, yeah, yeah I'll listen." Suddenly, he didn't seem so crazy any more.

They moved to the breakfast nook. She held a mug between both hands, still trembling slightly. Hades had cracked the door open just enough to shout a command, which stopped the slobbery hell-demon from trying to break in and chill out. He'd poured them both tea, which struck her as so freakishly mundane considering the situation, and sat her down in the nook to calm for a bit.

"I am Hades." He said firmly.

"Yeah. I know."

"You believe?"

"I have to. Either all of this is real, or none of it." She believed him within the context of the situation, she just hadn't decided whether or not the context was real. It was a logistical loophole that allowed her to not fall into a psychological break. Maybe she was just stuck in a horror movie. Is that where people really went when they died?

"This is the underworld, so to say."

"Fantastic. Continue." She took a sip of her tea, her shaking hands betraying her.

He licked his lips, which she found strangely distracting, and suddenly his cold demeanor snapped- just for a second.

"Do you really remember nothing?" He asked, voice low.

"I don't know what you want me to remember." She watched him over her tea.

He frowned. "No. I suppose you don't."

"Listen, um," She rubbed her thumb against the rim of her mug, "Is there… Is there any way I can, I don't know, send a letter to my sister? Or… call her? I just want to let her know I'm not… Dead. I think."

"You wish to see her?"

She stared, hard. "Yeah, why wouldn't I?"

He frowned, but nodded.

"We may see her soon."

"Okay… Soon as in?.."

"When you have recovered."

She frowned, "I feel fine, though. Really, I just want to see her."

"Please," his eyes turned pleading, "Please, let me care for you."

The depths of his eyes reached out and wrapped her in their cool, comforting darkness. They blocked the rest of the apartment from her view, blotting it out as she tried to remember why this feeling was so familiar.

His eyes were lonely. She recognized the feeling.

"Of course," she whispered, "Of course." Because she was tired, she was scared, and his eyes felt more real than anything else she had seen in the past hour, and for some reason she found herself missing something she'd never seen before.

He let out a deep breath, leaning back and composing himself back into the cool mask; "Would you like me to continue? Or would you like to return to bed?"

"I… I don't know." She whispered.

"Let me take you to bed—" He began to rise and she reached out.

"Wait, no, I want to hear the rest. Please." Her palm was up, pleading. She didn't want to sleep here, not without hearing everything.

He slowly sank down, eyeing her carefully.

"This is the underworld." She prompted, "Does that mean there's a heaven, too?"

"In a sense." He confirmed.

"How vague."

His lip twitched.

"So why am I not dead, then?" She almost hesitated. She didn't want to make him change his mind on the off chance this was all legit.

"Bella…" He hesitated now, "Bella… May I hold your hand?"

"What?" She pulled her arms into her lap.

"I," He ran a hand through his hair, tugging on the strands, "Isabella—"

"Bella." She corrected shortly.

"Bella." He nodded, "We… knew each other. A long, very long time ago. I will tell you everything, but it has been a very, very long time. I'm aware you don't remember, but for me, to have you so close again after so long… I just wish to hold your hand. Just for a moment."

The look was back. The focused, intently searching look that pleaded with her own gaze.

She hated touch. She hated anyone but Alice coming into her space, circling their arms around her, restraining her.

Yet, her hand reached across the table, inching slowly against the glossy marble top.

He, to his benefit, showed fantastic restraint, and waited until her arm was fully extended before he gently, slowly, extended his own hand to meet hers.

Feather light but rock steady. That was his own calloused hand as it engulfed her tiny one, wrapping hers up so slowly as if he feared it would shatter, or she would pull it away.

But she didn't. She met his gaze, confused and conflicted meeting his unreadable deep.

"Thank you." He whispered, gruff voice suddenly impossibly soft, like speaking to a spooked deer.

That's me, she realized— _I'm the wild animal._

She nodded stiffly.

"My name is Hades," He repeated, "This is the underworld. The Gods are real."

Welcome to hell.

"Four hundred years ago, someone very dear to me was lost." He continued, "She… was stolen from me, by someone we both trusted, and kept away for a very long time."

"I'm sorry." Bella said. She remembered, dimly, a story about Hades and his wife. Per-something, but she thought it had been him whom stole her.

"Do not feel sorry," He squeezed her hand, gently, almost imperceptibly—"Do not be saddened. I have found her."

Bella froze; "Wait, wait a second,"

"Isabella," he said slowly.

"You can't seriously be saying,"

"I am."

"No."

"It is true."

"You're wrong."

"Persephone,"

" _No._ " She pulled her hand away, pushing away from the nook to pace back away, smacking her hand on the marble counter. "No, no way."

He stood, "Listen, please."

"You can't be serious."

"Bella, sit, please."

She slumped, mind reeling.

"You were taken from me," He whispered, "I searched, for so long I spent my nights lurking in the corners of the universe, I searched for you."

"How do you know?" She whispered hoarsely, "How are you sure?"

"When you died, were dying, whatever locked you up broke. Your truth, the true entity within you, it called me."

" _No._ "

"Bella." He reached forward again, taking her hand gingerly, "Has nothing… Unexplainable happened in your life? Nothing during times of extreme duress?"

Hot, heavy breath lurking over her brain. Yellow, glaring, lusting eyes glaring into her own. The feeling of fingers, hot and thick curled over her mouth.

The feeling of spinning the knob to a faucet, slowly, the steady flow of life slowing into a trickle, a drop, until it faltered off.

The feeling of a hot, quickly cooling body slump onto her own.

The wide, bloodshot, dead look.

Alice, stumbling in, screaming.

"It was a heart attack," she whispered desperately, "It was a heart attack. From all the drugs. That's what they said."

"Bella."

The firm voice pulled her head up, cool hands gently cradling her face, eyes firmly locking with her own, "Bella, you must breathe." His own voice was well masked, but pain leaked through. He was nervous.

She let out a shaky breath.

"Tell me everything."

"I will," He promised, eyes deep with concern, "I give my word. But you need rest first."

"Okay." She agreed. Okay. Because, truth be told, her head was crackling like lightning, her knees felt like goo, and she was scared. Impossibly scared.

She just wasn't quite sure of what, yet.

He watched her as she slept, watching her restlessly toss her body from one edge of the giant bed to the next, legs corded together by the blankets.

They'd tried to disguise her, giving her a human image superimposed over her own. After only a few hours in his, _their,_ domain her true image had begun to shine back through. Light, brown hair slowly shifting to a deep glossy chestnut, jaw line sharpening just slightly.

She was back, and yet she had not truly returned.

Truly, he had a feeling his Persephone—the sweet, quiet girl that found such enjoyment with the simplest things—was gone.

He knew little of the new woman in front of him, and yet he knew more about her than she did herself. The past years had changed her. She had _sworn._ Repeatedly. Used words that would have made her former self blush redder than a pomegranate. She was flighty, hesitant, and lacked confidence—though she had developed a decent way of hiding it.

"She sleeps, but does not rest." Came a soft, sullen voice from behind.

Hades pursed his lips, "I know not how to comfort her. She accepts my touch, but finds no peace in it as she once did."

"She is different, Hades." The soft steps of a barefoot child padded to his side, the girl brushing her white-blonde hair behind her ear as she leaned over the bed to take a look. The glow of her pale skin cast a soft light on Bella's stressed brows.

"I could call for Morpheus." Hades mused.

"He would have no power here," the girl said sadly, brushing her small fingers over Bella's forehead, pressing away the tenseness; "He can only send dreams and appear in them; he cannot send a dream when one has already begun, and he cannot appear to comfort her if we do not know what she finds comforting."

Bella's face relaxed for a moment, then tensed again as she grumbled something under her breath.

"Alice?" The girl repeated, turning to look at Hades questioningly.

"She mentions her often. I believe she is a connection she made, some sort of guardian."

Blonde hair flittered with the girl's relieved sigh; "So perhaps she was not alone all this time after all."

"Perhaps." Hades said, frowning. "Hecate,"

She glanced up.

"Please, find Emmet. Tell him he can stop lounging and spending his days chasing shades, I want him to go above and find out where she spent her time while she was away. I wish for him to start with this 'Alice.'"

Hecate bowed her head, standing back from the bed. "I shall." She agreed. It would be good for Emmet to go above, staying in the underworld for so long had a poor effect on full gods—demigods had it even worse. Depression and insanity roamed freely here. Though Emmet had lasted long with his upbeat, cheerful attitude, lately he had been showing signs of laziness and a lack of desire for anything other than sleep.

As she faded, she met Hades's gaze.

"Hades," She said pointedly, "Be patient with her. Do not constrict her."

"I would never." He promised, but the words felt wrong on his tongue.


	3. Chapter 3

Hey folks

Sorry for the few days late. I was in the hospital for a bit with an ovarian cyst—told them they could just cut the damn things out at this point but it was a no-go.

Someone recced me on a site called A Different Forest? Holy crap. That's rad. Thanks, seriously. I'm humbled; I really sincerely appreciate the faith in me, especially since I don't feel the last chapter was as strong as it could have been.

People keep reviewing and following, that's great. One or two have mentioned beta-ing—I haven't sent any messages out about that (or about anything else, for that matter), but that'll be at the top of my list for the next few days.

Cool. Keep on keepin on.

-O.K.

p.s reread and noticed some issues with this chapter so rereleased after minor editing, don't publish new chapters at one am. Bad idea all around.

Three

"James."

"Mmph."

" _James._ "

Alice reached over and shoved James's shoulder, fingers sticking to the cool sweat on his pale bluish skin.

He grunted and rolled away from her, arm staying strung out behind to lazily grab onto her breast. She rolled out of bed, shoving off his arm and hunching over on the edge. Her mouth was dry, her brain felt like concrete, she could feel the shakiness building in her hands. How long had they slept?

"Bella?" She grumbled, then louder; "Bella?!"

"Shutthefuckup," Came a low grumble from somewhere beneath the stained blankets.

"Lazy ass." She snapped back, where was Bella? She could see the coffee maker from her spot on the mattress on the floor—the clock installed on the front said it was nearly noon—usually she at least tried to get Alice up before ten. Then again, that had stopped happening much since they'd moved in with James.

She was probably fine. She hadn't been around much yesterday at all, anyway.

Alice heaved her small frame out of bed, stumbling a few steps from the mattress to the small kitchenette, flipping on the coffee maker as she stared at the blinking blue electronic numbers.

"Hey, James-"

" _Jesus_ can a guy never get any fuckin' sleep around here?" a fist slammed onto the mattress as James sprang up, eyes sparking with residual high. Alice's nails dug into the plastic countertop.

"Relax, okay?"

"Hmph."

She hesitated, turning her back and keeping an eye on him. She didn't think he would still be high, what had he been using lately? She couldn't even remember the night before…

"It's fine," Suddenly a weight settled onto her back, heavy enough she had to steady herself against the counter with the palms of both hands. A voice hushed deeply in her ear, breath sour and sharp; "I'm up."

She felt a telltale pressure against her back, and hesitated.

"James?"

"Mmm…" He was kissing her neck, his dry lips like dead leaves against her skin.

"Did you reset the clock after that thing a couple weeks ago? The outage?"

He didn't answer, hands moving instead to her hips as he tried to turn her toward him.

"James—"

He backed up suddenly, slamming a fist on the wall—" _Goddammit!_ What?!"

"The clock." She tapped it, hand moving quickly to grab the pitcher of hot coffee, "Did you reset it?"

"Fuck, what? No—What the hell, Alice?"

"James…" She said slowly, "What day is it today?"

But he'd already turned and stomped away. The front door slammed in his wake.

Alice released her grip on the coffee maker, taking a deep breath. Her head was pounding. She needed a hit. Anything. Right now, caffeine.

She ended up in front of the small TV, an Elmo mug full of black, gravely coffee in one hand as she flipped to the news.

A sharp pain stabbed her skull.

She chugged the coffee, feeling the fire scald her throat. Her thumb pressed on the volume button, drowning out what pain wasn't dulled by the mix of caffeine and burning pain.

It was gonna be another hot one, another melting one. Alice had a flashback to one summer night, a bad trip—she thought she was going to melt straight into the ground, drippy fingers drizzling between the cracks of pavement as she begged Bella to scoop her together, to sponge her up and drip her into a bucket.

Bella, where was Bella? Where was James?

"James? Bella?" Alice took another sip of her coffee and froze, forgetting she had already finished it.

The weatherman was still droning on. What day was it? Tuesday? Sometimes Alice turned on the weather, just to remind herself what day it was, what time, what concrete example of reality she could spoon-fed into her open brain. For the days she felt cracked open, an eye in an eggshell.

It was Tuesday. She had last seen Bella Saturday.

She stuck out her thumb, index, finger after finger as the coffee mug dropped to the floor and rolled loudly over the fake tile flooring.

Three fingers. Up down one-two-three fingers, three days. It had been three days since she had seen Bella. She'd never been out past morning.

The sharp pain throbbed, bright spots bursting in the corners of her vision. She screamed, fingers curling into her hairline as she covered her eyes.

She had to find Bella.

She had to find Bella.

Her baby, her little girl, little sister—she had to find her. She had to find her before anything found her, anyone else. Something had found her.

 _Shutup shutup shutup shutup._ Her palms slapped hard against the clammy skin of her forehead.

The pain retreated into a dull thud.

Alice grabbed a coat, stepping out into the snow.

It brushed her face, whipping at it as it swirled in feathery tornados around her feet. Grey, sloppy wet snow sloshed against the tires of low-riding cars.

" _Bella!"_ She screamed, " _Bella?!"_

She didn't know how long she ran, stumbling across the walkways and barreling past groups of strangers and she screamed, tripping and stumbling.

 _Bella!_

"Whoah!"

She slammed into a wall of cotton, falling back into the snow. A distinct cracking sound came from the back of her skull. Her vision wavered.

"Holy shit! Oh, shit, are you okay?" Hands on her shoulders, her face, soft dove-grey eyes peering into her own and it pushed the greasy strands of overgrown black hair from her face.

"Here, slowly, come on," He wrapped an arm, "I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there, you're just so damn tiny—kid? You okay? Can you talk? Oh my god, you're bleeding. Oh holy shit, please don't sue, I seriously didn't see you there, please let me help you,"

Alice slowly picked up one hand, pressing it gently to the back of her head. There was definitely a bump forming, but the pain was nothing compared to what she was used to. She needed to get back up, anyway.

"It's fine—" She pushed off of him, hands rubbing against the warm red thread of his heavy jacket.

"No, you really cracked your head on that pavement, you might have a concussion." His hand grabbed her wrist.

Alice flinched.

He dropped her wrist like it was on fire, brows knitting together as he frowned.

"I'm sorry, I have to go, I have to find Bella—"

"Whoah, calm down, come on you're going to pass out," He stood with her as she jumped up, wavering slightly.

"No, just get off of me, okay? I'm fine. I need to go, I need to find her,"

"Who's her?" He stepped in front of her. She growled, shoving against his shoulder.

"My fucking sister, okay?! She's missing, she's been missing and I need to find her and get the fuck out of my way!" She shoved once, twice, who the hell was this guy? A solid block of muscle? He didn't look like much, blonde shaggy hair and twiggy legs, why the hell couldn't she get him to move?

"Okay, calm down, did you report it? How long has she been missing?"

"What? Repor- uh, no. I can't really, you know, shit." She shook her head. It dropped, shaking back and forth lowly like a pendulum—too heavy, too thick, too much all at once…

"Hey, hey, calm down, its okay. You're freezing. We need to get you warm, going all hypothermic won't help anyone, okay? Come with me. My dad owns a corner store near here." He laid a hand gently, slowly on her shoulder, shaking it lightly as he tried to get her to look up from behind the thick veil of shiny black strands of hair; "I'm Jasper, okay? What's your name?"

But Alice had stopped listening. All she could hear was the dull thumping of the pain, sharp and ever present in the sides of her skull.

 _She's gone. Bella is gone._

Bella was still entirely convinced she was dreaming.

Or dead, but that was the less favorable theory that she ignored for the sake of sanity because, frankly, thinking of it make her face pale and hands shake.

Like they were now.

She swallowed the bile rising in her throat, clenching the silk fabric of her pajama pants in her hands as she stayed curled under the thick blankets.

She'd awoken in the middle of the night to an empty room, cast in low light by candles sitting in coves within the walls. She could see now the walls were indeed stone, glossy and flickering as the candles wavered under some otherwise undetectable breeze. Thick, old wooden furniture including a dresser and an old, carved chair curled along with the rounded walls. Each decorated with painted and carved flowers and vines, reaching and wrapping as though they held each piece together and weren't simply decoration.

A thick Ikea style reading chair sat in the corner, painfully out of place alongside the antique oak cabinets and cave walls.

There were no windows.

"Bella." Came a deep voice from beyond her blanket shell.

She hesitated, ruining her chance to feign sleep before she even had a chance to consider it. Reluctantly, she slowly peeled the blankets from her face, sliding up and back so her spine pressed against the stone headboard. She felt too vulnerable laying down, even under Fort Quilts.

"I thought… We could speak, should you be in agreement." His voice still shook her, sending shivers down her arms. Small shocks of fear and awe as milk gold eyes trained themselves carefully on her face.

"You should knock, please." She whispered.

He bowed his head slightly, "I apologize. I did not consider it."

"Yeah..."

"Do you wish to speak?" He repeated, eyes still firmly trained on her. She shifted uncomfortably.

"Um." A part of her didn't want to talk. What if, on the off chance, he made sense? Dreams always made sense, so if he did she could use that as confirmation—but that wasn't definite logic. She still had no clue whether or not this was real, but every minute she spent here felt realer than the last, as terrified as she was to admit it.

Listening to him outline the rules of this realm might feel like the final nail in the coffin that held her former life, and she wasn't sure she was ready for that. Ready to leave Alice.

Tears threatened the corners of her eyes and her nose immediately started filling.

"Um, yeah, just—basic stuff, okay? Basic things. Please."

He nodded deeply, stiffly, pulling the carved chair over to her bedside and elegantly lowering himself into it. Every movement, every gesture, they seemed to be done faster and softer than anything she had seen before. He sat in a chair like a hawk drifted into the wind.

There was a silence, before she realized he was waiting for her to speak.

"So… You're Hades."

"Yes."

"You think I'm Per… You're missing wife."

"Not missing," he reached forward and grasped her hand gently, lightly; "Found. But yes, because you are."

"Right…" She slowly drew back her hand, "And this is…"

"The Underworld." He agreed.

"So gods are real."

"In a sense."

"What?" She looked up, slightly surprised by his nonchalant phrasing.

"We are not… Gods, in the sense of the almighty." He said slowly, retracting his hand that had been sitting abandoned on the rumpled sheets as he bound his fingers together to rest in his lap; "We originate from this Earth. We came long before you, long before the Earth as you know it formed. Long before the realms in which we dwell were paired with your own."

"Oh, right, weren't there like, giants?" She remembered something about this dimly from that Disney movie a while back. It had been playing in the hospital waiting room once while Bella had waited for Alice after she had nearly ODed again.

"Titans." He corrected. His hair flickered along with the candle light, glossy—seemingly emitting a light of its own.

"They were Titans, massive, terrible creatures," He hesitated, looking at her face before slowly reaching forward.

The tips of his cool, smooth fingers brushed her cheek, his eyes suddenly deeply intense.

"They were, are, the definition of terror," He swallowed. For the first time he almost looked… Nervous. Determined. The depth of emotion in his eyes making Bella's stomach drop.

"I pray," he continued deeply, leaning closer as his fingers traced the tips of her ear down to her jaw gently, "You will never face that horror."

"Um," She swallowed. She could feel the heat of his fingers through her throat, and it was shocking straight down her chest. Her face blossomed with a bright red blush.

His face remained deadly serious as he drew away, returning again to his formal position.

Bella took a minute to breathe.

"Um," she cleared her throat, "So, different realms?"

She was going to go insane here. Okay. That was quickly becoming an accepted fact.

Ah-Some.

"Yes, ah, not quite dimensions, but..." He paused for a moment, considering, "Imagine the world were flat."

Not hard after what she had been through; "Okay."

"A human could see outlines, correct?"

"Hadn't there been a book or something about this?"

"It is possible." He agreed, "Imagine movement was only northward and southward. Those along the sides of your being can be perceived, however planes on the opposing axis are too thin to be seen. As such, they are unperceived by those who move along a singular axis."

"Yeah I never went to high school so…"

He frowned, "Should I try to explain another way?"

"No," Bella shook her head, "I think I'm getting it. Just, gimmie a minute to think about it, okay?" Talking about this sort of… theoretical stuff was actually comforting. Even if she wasn't sure about the legitimacy of the theory, she could still appreciate the theory itself. It reminded her of the things she read back home, about that show her foster family had filmed—what was it called? Stars? Cosmics? Cosmos, that's right.

Science was concrete. Though, as she scanned his tall, glowing, ethereal figure it struck her thinking of him as a scientific "species" was no more comforting than considering him a god.

Well, maybe a little. But it was definitely weirder on at least some levels.

"So, basically different… Dimensions?" Made sense, she guessed, since oil wells had never dug down too deep and literally struck hell—at least to her knowledge.

"We, gods, as you call us, can travel in all four directions." He continued firmly. He would make a cold professor, she thought wildly.

"So we're stuck two-ways, but you have four wheel drive, so to speak. You can go everywhere." She murmured.

"Not "we,"" He said firmly, "They. You are like me. You are of my own kind. But yes, we can go all places through use of the Aether."

She didn't say anything. She tried to let it slide, but he could see the evidence of disbelief on her face.

"Come. I will prove it to you." He said firmly, grabbing her wrist. She yelled as he dragged her from the bed, protesting loudly as he pulled her to the dresser. One hand firmly gripping her wrist, he ran the fingers of his other one along the cool surface of the cave wall behind the wooden furniture.

Bella watched, amazed, as stone turned to glass under the gentle convincing of his fingers. It reflected like still water, her gaze immediately drawn to the tall man beside her wrapped in dark cloth, hair pulled back at the base of his neck.

"Look upon yourself and see the changes you already face. You are returning to your true self."

She slowly tore her gaze away, switching it to herself.

The first thing she noticed was her hair, which stuck out in every direction. _So much for just forwards and backwards, huh?_

Then she noticed the slight reddening of her lips, which she thought were simply swollen at first, but upon closer inspection seemed to have plumped naturally—her cupids bow just slightly more defined.

Even her cheeks were a bit pinker, her eyes just a bit more tilted—like a cross between Snow White and a wood elf.

"It's… It's just my period." She assured herself quietly. Hades let one hand go as she unconsciously raised it, the dresser cutting into her abdomen as she leaned over it to get closer to the wall, tracing strands of dark auburn hair.

"It's just that hormonal shit that happens when you're menstruating or whatever, nothing special." She whispered.

"You lie to yourself." He said flatly.

"No, shutup, it's normal." She insisted, "It can't be real."

"It is." He insisted. Though he was nearly unreadable, Bella could tell he was getting frustrated.

"Perhaps let me try." Came a soft voice from the hall. Both Hades and Bella looked up suddenly at the doorway as a small woman slipped in, draped in glowing white silk.

If Hades was immortal, this woman looked eternal.

She glided across the floor, bare feet casting a white glow beneath her. Her shadow seemed chopped in half, the other half washed in her light.

"Child," She smiled, bright blue eyes framed in white lashes as thin as spider webbings, "You may not remember me, but I remember you very well."

"I've been hearing that a lot." Bella whispered. Everything in her wanted to take a step away, but she was drawn to the figure, almost gravitationally so.

"Hades has informed you of your true identity?" She asked, stopping in front of Hades and Bella. For the last few hours, Bella had never imagined anything that could possibly make Hades look anything but royally elegant, but next to this woman he seemed like an awkward teenager.

"Um," Bella tried, but she found her speech stunted.

"Of course." She placed a white-pale hand on her chest, eyes turning in smile; "I am Hecate. We were good comrades here, daresay friends even."

"Comrades?.." Bella asked, that sounded a little… Russian for the Greek Underworld.

"Perhaps I should demonstrate." Hecate smiled.

Hades suddenly stepped forward, gripping the top of Bella's arm and pulling her back; "Hecate, I don't believe,"

He suddenly stopped short as Hecate turned her gaze to him, still soft but now stern. Hades frowned deeply, seemingly conflicted.

"Remember of what I spoke before." Hecate said softly.

Slowly, Hades backed away, hand easing off of Bella's shoulder, which was suddenly shaking.

But then Hecate turned her gaze back upon her and she suddenly calmed.

It would all be okay. All fine.

Hecate would never hurt her.

Suddenly, the lights fluttered out.

Bella froze, the cold immediately settling into the room.

She opened her mouth, reaching forward with her arms—It hadn't even been this dark before, when she had first woken up here, where the hell was the human torch that had been right in front a couple second ago? Where was Hades?

She went to yell out their names, but found her voice stunted. Blocked by some force in the back of her throat. She coughed forcefully, but nothing came out.

Okay. She was going to be okay. If she found the bed, maybe she could just go back to get some damn sleep.

She took two steps forward in what she thought might be bed-direction, but then a small shuffling sound caused her to stop.

 _Hades?_

She took a half step in the direction, feeling that same pull as she felt when Hecate arrived, wandering forward a bit, arms stretched out to avoid running into any walls.

Suddenly a voice in the distance struck her to the core.

 _"Bella?!"_

Her knees locked.

 _"Oh my god, Bella?! I swear to fuck if this is a joke I'm going to kill you!"_

 _'Alice,'_ Bella tried to speak, but it just came out as a dry choke.

 _"Bella?!"_

Alice was leaving, Bella wanted to scream _this way! Wrong freaking way! Come here!_ But her tongue felt swollen and immobile in her dry mouth.

She started to run, forgetting about maneuvering about walls as she put all her force into a forward momentum.

 _Bella..._

 _Where are you…_

Bella let out a soundless scream. They kept traveling farther away no matter how fast she ran to catch up, no matter what direction she tried, they just slipped farther and farther away.

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she was aware she should have ran into a wall a long time ago, but the thought was drowned in frantic desperation.

She could feel the anger and anxiety building in her stomach, sending shots through her muscles and she tried to scream over and over, hands clawing in the darkness.

She was losing Alice.

Again. Always, always losing Alice. Always on the cusp of gone forever, and she was about to fall off.

Men, always pushing. Waiting for the right moment. The drugs. Syringes. Alice's screams, her headaches, the pains—the voices. The murmuring. The stares.

The isolation.

 _Bella…_

Bella screamed.

The room erupted with sudden light, bursting so painfully fast Bella had to shut her shocked eyes. The tension wrapped in her gut had released all at once, tumbling outward in a darkly familiar feeling.

It had happened again.

She slowly peeked her eyes open, finding herself not one inch away from where she had been when the lights were put out.

Hecate stared down at her, eyes alit as the candle behind her blazed.

Hades slumped to the floor, yelling something at Hecate, something angry enough to make her back away as he slid and arm around Bella's shoulders and pressed her face to his chest, whispering in her ear.

But she was too distracted by the candle in the alcove above them, the wax bubbling with life as it blazed.

Slowly, something forced its way through the waxy film—a bee, buzzing in haphazard patterns around the room as it slowly tumbled to the floor behind Hades, where Bella had a clear view of its deformed legs and burnt wings.

Hecate's voice invaded her head then, whispering softly;

 _Well done, Persephone._

Bella vomited, covering the back of Hade's silk attire.


	4. Chapter 4

I must have rewritten this a million times.

Hopefully this chapter clears things up a bit.

On and on, we're rollin.

-O.K.

Four

Hecate was one of the last titans still wandering, Hades had explained.

A figurehead of magic and connection.

After the "incident" that led to Bella's vomiting, Hades had scooped her into his arms and carried her to a small washroom. He'd held her steady as she washed out her mouth, sitting with her as she sat curled on the modern toilet, sipping water out of a metal goblet. It all felt confusing, conflicting, every item as painfully out of place as the next.

'It's all wrong,' She murmured, 'It all feels so wrong.'

Her arms had curled around her shaky legs as Hades knelt in front of her, speaking in low tones.

It had been false. Alice hadn't been anywhere nearby; Hecate had created an auditory illusion in order to distress Bella.

Hades's earlier question about "times of duress" nagged at the back of her mind.

Hecate had intentionally terrified Bella. She wanted to stress her, so they could prove a point. She'd picked at her brain until she found her deepest fear, her darkest nightmare, and forced in her to live in it. Forced her to find escape from an imaginary world where Alice was in trouble and Bella was helpless. A world that, for once, wasn't true. A tool instead used by Hecate.

So Bella's "abilities" would work to the surface.

 _Persephone's_ abilities, Hades insisted.

It had worked, she figured, based on the way Hecate had left the room— nearly smug. Bella hoped she never returned.

For the first time Bella was fully considering the possibility she was who they said they were.

She found herself staring at the man in front of her, who had stripped off the dirty cloak, leaving him wrapped in a grey tunic.

"She locked you in your own mind," Hades murmured lowly, "I should have stopped her. There would have been another way."

Bella let out a shaky breath. He should have stopped her, but a God would stop, _could_ stop anything he so desired. He should have stopped her maybe, like he said, but he didn't. Because he didn't want to. What he said now was for her benefit.

She felt like a bug flipped on its back, flailing wildly and uselessly against the world happening around it. They'd never elaborated on the nature of her supposed abilities, was she just supposed to ignore whatever the hell happened? Did they think letting her figure it out for herself like some lost child would speed things along?

Were they purposely keeping her in the dark, hiding the details until they could connect the lines for her on their terms? Take the pencil away so they could paint her picture themselves.

No.

She would work this out herself.

"Do… Do you have any, like, books or something? Something I could read?" She whispered, fingers rubbing the etched details on the metal goblet, "I just… I just want to, I don't know."

He blinked, then stood swiftly, something flashing in his eyes; "The library, yes. Please, let me escort you."

That… was easier than expected. Maybe they weren't hiding things, he was doing a terrible job of it if he was.

She just wanted to read. To make sense of this herself. Maybe understand things a bit better. Just enough to get back Alice. Was she even safe to be around? She didn't want to believe what was going on, but after that light show… She was desperate for some semblance of stability. Consistency. Some air for a drowning man.

Hades was slightly surprised at her request for the library. Persephone had never been one to sit and read; she got too anxious sitting around, wishing to instead walk about outside or swim about in a safe cove. She had light feet, a drive to wander—sitting in the study was something he could never convince her to do.

Again, a pang of mourning struck his heart. Would he ever get the woman he once knew back? Would this new version of her ever care for him as she once did?

"Are you certain?" He cupped her cheek gently, relishing the feel of her soft skin against his own; "We could walk in the gardens in the courtyard, perhaps you'd like to rest beside the cenote-"

She tilted her head away, rubbing the spot he'd held with the pads of her fingers, "Please. The library."

He frowned and withdrew his hand into the folds of his clothes, the warmth her cheek had lent to his fingers leaking away into the folds of his himation.

"Please," He beckoned, briskly turning away. He doubted she would stay too long there, he wouldn't stray too far. Once she was inevitably bored he would return and bring her to the gardens.

She followed him through the carved stone hallways. Slowly, modern themes transformed into older, antique carvings and statues. Large ceramic pots decorated with geometric patterns stood like guards against the walls, standing nearly as tall as she did. She felt shrunken like a toddler, wandering on uneven steps through a room entirely too large for her.

They arrived at a thick wooden door, which Hades pushed open with ease.

In the middle of the massive cavern a great fire raged, deeply set in a groove in the floor, surrounded by pillows. Surrounding it were curved cupboards, each holding different stacks of rolled scrolls or piles of thickly bound books.

A curved, black stone ceiling met at a peak that descended with several glittering stalactites.

Bella felt she were in the center of the world, of time. Ageless and immortal. The inside of a geode, dark and sparkling.

"Please," He gestured, "You are free to all materials, though you may not understand some."

She pursed her lips; "I think I'll be okay."

His eyebrow rose at the tone and her cheeks immediately flamed, her eyes casting down as she crossed an arm over her chest to grab the other.

"Of course." He nodded, slowly backing away, "Call out should you desire anything. I won't be far."

She bobbed her head, back turned to him as she waited for the resounding boom of the door to announce his exit from the room.

He was gone.

For the first time since she'd awoken, she was alone.

Time to get some work done.

Bella didn't realize how long she'd been sitting beside the fire pit, surrounded by a mound of pillows like a silk moat around the thick leather walls composed of hundreds of books.

Why the hell couldn't everything be in English?

Evidently, when adding to his collection, Hades, or whoever stocked this anti-American Barnes and Hell-hole, they had thought any English opinion on mythology was equal to nil.

Honestly it was a little disappointing, and more than a little frustrating. She'd had to rely on pictures, words she recognized from picture books and the sparse novels she'd read that had actually reference this brand of history. This brand of insanity. Amusingly, she found herself wishing for a book on psychology, but Hades seemed to be lacking that genre.

Or maybe he wasn't. Maybe he had several, they were just in a rare whistling dialect or some other crazy shit. _Freud, Translated Specifically for Dolphin-kind_ ; it wouldn't even seem insane considering the circumstances.

While she had lost track of time, Hades had been counting every second with growing illness. He twisted his fingers together, lips tightly pursed as he watched the walls of books grow ever-higher around the small girl swaddled in soft pillows.

She had been reading for hours, nearly the entire day. More than he had seen her read in the entirety of her existence combined, excluding the current day. Mostly, she stuck to the old illuminated tomes that sat like thick leather bricks collecting dust for centuries. At first he thought, with awe, she may actually have been reading the old dialect—that the knowledge may have returned from some deeply buried memory, and he had a spark of hope.

Then he realized she was simply flipping between pictures, back and forth, trying to tie names to faces that inevitably would not match the real figures.

He ran his fingers tightly through his hair, forgetting he'd tied it back and tangling strands in the process. This was madness. She would drive herself mad.

More so, those books held stories; not truths. Many, he knew, about him.

How he met her, specifically.

"Persephone." He strode through the heavy oak doors. The books hiding her from view collapsed with a wave of his hand, sliding across the floor like water drops across glass as Bella jumped at his sudden presence. She'd been unaware of the fact he'd been beside the door the entirety of her time spent among the books.

" _Shit,"_ She stumbled up and grabbed at the remaining tower of swaying books, "What did you do that for?!"

"I sensed perhaps you are ready to stop needlessly frustrating yourself with these materials and would like to stroll in the gardens with myself." He stepped easily over one large book that Bella had discovered was full of colorful images depicting heroes and gods. One she had specifically set aside. She reached for it, only to jump back as his sandaled foot landed atop it.

His face looked down at her low form, her wide round eyes stared at him as she sat back on her knees. Dark eyes met for one, tense moment.

She carefully sat back, face setting.

"I don't want to go to the gardens."

"You certainly don't seem to be enjoying yourself here," He countered smoothly, "My lady, please, let me escort you-"

"Touch me and I swear to god," She stood stiffly, jerked back away from him and stooped only to pick up a few books and bundle them into her arms, "I don't want to see your fucking flowers, alright? Christ, just drop it. I'm fine here, okay? I can fucking read. I'm _fine._ " A feeling in her gut dropped, low. She was alone in this room, this world, with this man entirely larger than her. Entirely alone and small.

But the anger bubbled over, even as her brain screamed to stop.

He frowned, "Persephone,"

"My name is Bella." She snapped, fingers tingling.

His face darkened.

She could feel hers pale.

The temperature of the room noticeably dropped, the lights dampening. Her breath appeared as a frosty cloud beyond her lashes, fogging her vision of Hades as his appearance grew, all-consuming as it swallowed the room. Entirely large and beautiful. A stone viper, she felt childlike as his feet. Like a lens cap on her vision, he covered everything beyond his own image.

For the first time, she saw him as a God.

"You will follow." He spoke lowly, voice reverberating over the stone walls as it wrapped Bella in a vice. Her head pressed down.

Her knees cracked as she fell to the ground under the pressure.

The sound reverberated in the tense atmosphere as their eyes stayed locked.

She could feel her palms shake as power oozed from his cold eyes. One tear slipped onto her cracked lips, a choked sound gurgling from her throat.

Terror, her eyes, body, hands screamed.

 _Terror_ they shook, fingers tapping, trembling it out in a fearful Morse code against the book held tightly against her chest like armor, _tap tap shake._

It stopped.

They stared at each other with wide eyes, his own flashed quickly with discomfort before he disappeared from her vision in a blink, leaving her to shake alone in the middle of the library. Her fingers turned white against the leather grain of the book she held, shoulders high against her neck.

The pressure evaporated from her back like a spark, disappearing as she filled her lungs with air.

Seconds, minutes, hours later she slowly came back into herself. Calmed just enough to think. To notice.

Slowly, she dropped one hand, feeling the damp spot growing on her soft pants.

This is when Bella truly began to cry.

Bella didn't see Hades for three days following the incident in the library. This was a good thing; if she'd happened upon him at any point she would have either stabbed him with a kitchen knife, or throttled him partly out of fury, partly out of embarrassment.

That was a lie.

It would be fear.

She was too afraid to do any of those things, but the lies felt nice on her brain.

She hadn't wet herself since before she could remember, not even as a toddler in the bed. Suddenly here she was, a grown ass adult, and she had wet her own damn pants after some dipshit got all I-Am-God on her.

Not to mention, she couldn't find a single washing machine in this place so her urine soaked pants had found a home huddled in a low corner under her bed for the time being. She ended up wrapping those cloth-robes around her waist like a skirt instead, hanging on stubbornly to her T-shirt, even as it began to smell.

Fuck that. The worse the smell the better. Maybe it would keep him away. She felt the same about the hair now lengthening along her legs and under her arms. She was an animal, stinky and thick and a coat of rough fur, always standing on end.

Her days evolved into exploring the images on the hallway walls, exploring the complex and avoiding the library entirely. She'd made it as far as the wooden doors the second day of No-Hades, but she couldn't bring herself to push it open. The shame and anger too fresh.

So when she'd found a jar of peanut butter in the cupboard of the strangely modern kitchen beside her room she'd started a process of exploration that involved smearing peanut butter on the walls in order to find her way back.

There had been bread, too, but she'd imagined the peanut butter would be more irritating to clean. The bastard could scrub his own damn walls after what he'd done.

Today, she'd been exploring the southern pathways. She'd decided to find the pool Hades had mentioned briefly, just for the sake of orienteering and something to do. If she could find a portal, an elevator, anything to get above, she could use it to get the hell out and find Alice. Water had to come from somewhere.

Bella had no clue what a portal might look like, but when she stumbled upon a golden gate with smoke seeping out beneath she had a sneaking suspicion she'd found something entirely different than the rest of the palace, so she didn't even stop to listen before she pressed all too excitedly into it, swinging the gate open with all force.

Had she listened, she may have heard the low murmuring and female giggling on the other side. Instead, she saw the entire image of writhing naked bodies entwined under ribbons of smoke as the muscular outline of a man rose grinning, biting playfully on the rosy feminine bottom of a woman whose upper half was hidden from Bella's view.

"Oh, shit!" Bella cried as she reeled back, unable to look away from shock as the man's head tilted towards her at her cry, and a grin spread across his youthful face;

"My lady, look who stumbles upon us! The Queen herself, would you care to join us?"

"Uh," Bella took a step back, "I-"

"Please, allow us a moment to finish then." The man winked, and returned back into the heap of scrambling bodies writhing in a mass of cream colored cushions and silk sheets.

Bella turned and ran from the room, her cheeks flaming.

She'd been around people having sex before. People weren't exactly shy when you were all sleeping in the same shelter and the most privacy you got was the occasional fence or hanging blanket, but she'd never seen so many _at once!_

Lord, they were like rabbits in there! Were there even enough parts to go around, what the hell were the social logistics for something like that?!

All too quickly the man reappeared. Bella jumped, not expecting him to actually emerge from the room any time soon. His broad, mostly naked form towered over herself. His skin a cool pale, almost grey, coal colored hair short and curling close to his skull. She had barely caught her breath, and still leaned against the wall across the hall as she stared at him.

"My lady," He beamed, eyes brightened kindly; "Please, come in. I promise all potentially unsavory activities have ceased."

"Uh," She repeated, pressing against the wall. She hadn't seen anyone else exit the room, how the hell did she know he wasn't trying to lure her into some weird sex party?

"Or we could remain out here." He continued smoothly, and gracefully fell to the floor with crossed legs. Arms open, head cocked to one side kindly.

His face was angular, similar to Hades but more boyish. He seemed youthful, like a teenager who'd just stepped into the world with enough confidence for anything. A modern day gladiator, or maybe a real gladiator considering her present setting. She pressed her arms to her sides, suddenly aware of the unshaved hair peeking out from under her shirt.

"Are you Adonis?" She asked slowly.

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then laughed, a loud booming affair that made her shoulders drop, tension released as she watched him double over and wrap his arms around his muscular torso as he wiped an amused tear from his eye.

"No, my queen, I'm Morpheus. God of Dreams; though, please, pass this story along to Adonis should you happen to run into that runt." He smiled, a perfect set of white teeth, "It's nice to once again have you here, my lady—or should I say meet you, considering the circumstances?"

"Bella," For the first time since that first night, against all logic, she actually felt at some semblance of ease. Hecate and Hades both felt so detached and cold, so ethereal; Morpheus felt genuine in a way that neither could hope to emulate. Human.

Something about his demeanor felt familiar, something that touched a curious ache in her gut almost like… longing? The same sensation she now felt when she thought of Alice, but shallower. She felt wistful.

"My lady Bella, please." He gestured with one hand, "This marble is too grand to simply walk on, and you wound my ego standing so far above, perhaps you'll consider sitting beside me?"

"Yeah, uh, sure." She slowly slide down the wall, eased downwards until she crouched in front of this man.

"I must admit," he leaned forward, "When I heard you'd returned, I feared I would never see you for a century at least—Hades isn't fond of sharing, not that I blame him."

Bella tensed and made to stand.

"My lady," Morpheus's grin disappeared, "I'm sorry, don't leave, please, I'm not serious in any manner. You're safe here."

Oh yes. He said she'll be safe here, then it must be true.

But she still found herself slowly move to sit back down.

"Who… What am I, to you? Did we…" She gestured.

"What? That? Gods, no Pe- Bella, sorry, no we never did that." He smiled lowly, "Not for lack of trying, once upon a time, but- wait please, please don't leave. That was eons ago, before Hades, even. You and I are like family, or once was. Before the disappearance."

The relief was palpable. "What disappearance? Please, what the hell is going on?"

He frowned, "Bella, I would have expected Hades to appear long before we reached that question, it's hard to believe he would leave you alone after so long, where is he?"

Her gut shrank, fingers beginning to code again against her thighs _tap tap terror tap._

Morpheus's suddenly narrowed, dark eyes looked odd against the olive tone of his childish face. She crossed her arms.

"I understand." He said evenly.

Understand nothing, she thought, understand nothing and you'll finally understand.

"Bella, please, would you come with me?" Morpheus's face shifted back into a cheerful smile as he rose, holding out one hand.

She looked at the door.

"Oh, don't look like that." He laughed, "I just want to show you a book of mine. I promise everyone is gone. Gods don't necessarily need doors, you know. Nymphs, neither. Oh, that's an interesting sound, _Nymphs neither, neither Nymphs,"_ He hummed, opening the golden door and slipping inside the smoke.

Bella jumped after a minute, when an olive toned hand suddenly snapped out from the thick fog; "Are you coming?"

Reluctantly she followed, washed by the fog as she stepped into the room.

She avoided looking at the silk pillows and sheets that laid strewn on the bed, lumped and ruffled with obvious use. Instead her eyes traveled across the warm red tones of the walls, over the leather couches and across to the opposite wall.

"Whoa."

Morpheus, crouched in front of a dark oak chest at the base of the bed, looked up; "What? Oh, not all of us are antiques down here, thanks. Some of us like to live in the modern age."

Somehow, the giant flat screen television across from Morpheus's bed made her even more at ease. Visions of Greek gods sprawled out on the couch in antiquated robes as they watched football flittered through her mind. Overlapping time, two discs laying atop of each other, the strangest element being the humanity of it all.

"Your boyfriend hates that thing, by the way. Thinks it's mind numbing, some shit about brain cells." Morpheus rose, a thick leather book in his hands. Corners of pictures and bookmarks stuck out like spikes, the cracked spine wrinkled like a thumbprint. Entirely individual, well-read compared to the untouched relics in the library; "Honest he just hates change."

"He's not my boyfriend." She whispered.

"No," Morpheus agreed solemnly, slowly as he sat on the leather couch; "Not your boyfriend. Not even a friend, now, is he? But he is unfortunately still your husband."

Slowly, Bella inched forward towards the book that Morpheus now held open, towards her, his features carefully neutral and cautious against whatever he suspected her reaction to be. She slipped one foot In front of the other, hair falling over her eyes and tangling with Morpheus's own curls as their foreheads nearly touched when she leaned over the image.

Taped inside the book, among other images and scribbles in what she assumed to be Greek, was a drawing of a younger, brighter Hades embracing a small woman full of soft curves from her neck down to her shoulders, where the drawing stopped at the soft curls of her hair.

A mirror image. Almost as though someone had dressed her in period clothes and sketched her as she slept, scrubbed the street and muck away. But her eyes were traitorously open and curled with happiness as her hands tangled themselves in Hades, her husbands, hair.

"Bella," Morpheus murmured, "This is your life. From your childhood, this book marks it all. Everything but the last four hundred years, we've collected. This is yours. This is your story. Let me introduce you to yourself, Persephone."

Bella sat down on the couch and reached for the book.


	5. Chapter 5

Half of this chapter was written before I disappeared. See if you can find where exactly I picked it back up.

This is all Alice and Jasper, with one surprise introduction at the end.

-O.K.

Five

Today the snow became rain.

Alice watched the droplets as they slid down her bangs and landed on the pavement between her soaked sneakers. Plop and swirl in dirt and smell, city rain felt like a bathtub of filth washing away the sins of the higher-ups, bringing them down for the street dwellers to soak up like sponges.

Bella would need a shower after this storm. Alice would have to make sure she got one once she finally found her.

Light, easy steps approached her, sending the dirty and rainbow oil spills swirling as she turned to see Jasper through the thick glass of the store door.

"Things are finally starting to warm up, whew." He said, his voice raised in order to carry from indoor to out. He pulled off his thick black sweatshirt as he reached underneath the hemmed bottom with one hand to unlock the store door. Alice nibbled on the cracked, bleeding remains of her index fingernail and watched as Jasper turned and threw his sweatshirt beside the counter, where it swung over his shoulder.

"Jasper-" She stood from the spot where'd she spent her morning beside the shop door.

"Hold on, okay? Just, give me a minute." He breathed, running two hands slowly over his face as he sighed into his palms. He pulled the door open, "Okay, okay. Come on, how long have you been out there?"

"Jasper," She wrapped her arms around her sides and stepped inside, her temples were throbbing, "It's been days,"

"Really? Didn't see you out there yesterday." The left half of his mouth cracked into a lazy smile but fell quickly when he saw her expression.

"I know, Alice. I know. I've been asking, I promise, I've been asking all around." The florescent lights flickered lazily to life, reluctant to shine. Jasper turned his broad back to her, jabbing at the coffee maker with slow, thick movements.

"Fuck." Alice slumped to the floor, her back sliding against the wall of the counter.

"Hey, don't be like that, come on, Alice," Jasper knelt in front of her, "Come on, it's okay, we're gonna find her. Are you sure you don't want to call the police? They could help…"

She shook her head, rubbing her wet hair against the tops of her knees. No police. Bella wouldn't trust them, they'd never done anything to help them besides lock Alice in a cell while Bella had to wait alone in hiding so they wouldn't take her back to foster care. James would kill her if he found out she'd called the police as well, regardless of the reason.

Her nose began to burn, her sinuses throbbing with incoming tears.

"Okay, alright." He rose, only to return with two Styrofoam cups that smelled dimly of weak black coffee, "Here. Come on. You need to warm up."

She reached for the coffee but froze when Jasper grabbed her wrist. "Holy shit," the world was swirling around her, the floor reaching up to touch the ceiling and her stomach twisted.

She tugged her arm away loosely and looked askance. She tried to steady her violently shaking hands against her knees. Waves of hot coffee splattered over the cup's rim into a pool around her feet.

"It's fine." She snapped.

"Alice, holy shit, are you sick? Let me feel your forehead—"

"I'm _okay,_ alright?!" She jerked her face away from his insistent gaze.

She was anything but alright. She felt like a bag of shit that someone had been beating with an aluminum bat for the past forty-eight hours. Her skin itched and red angry scratches littered her arms and neck.

In short, she smelled like vomit, could barely stand without needing to shit, and felt like absolute trash, but it was the only way she could see Bella. Drugs clouded her thoughts and turned the cyclical, obsessive patterns into blunted, puffy, opaque clouds. Alice could only hear Bella when she was sober, unsuppressed. That's when she heard whispers dancing through the fog of reality and truth, up and down through her mind…

 _It's the only way I can hear her._

"Alice, listen…"

"Yeah," She stood and set the now mostly empty coffee cup down, smacking her sweaty palms on her thighs once, twice, "Yeah, I know, business hours. Your dad and shit. I'm going,"

"No, actually, listen," Jasper scrambled to stand beside her and grabbed her shoulder.

She flinched.

He lurched back, "Sorry,"

"It's fine." It was not.

She stepped towards the door but he stepped in front and held one hand out, eyes bright and hopeful.

Kind.

Handsome.

She was going to puke.

"Alice, who have you been staying with?"

She blinked, "What?"

"Who do you live with right now?"

Her shoulders tensed, did he know about James? Had James come here? Was this a trap? Her eyes flicked to the closet in the back of the store.

"Please, it's okay, I just…" Jasper rubbed his forehead with one hand and let out a long breath, "Alice, I want you to meet someone."

"I have to find Bella," Regardless of where he was going with this conversation, she needed to get out. She needed to find Bella, but more so, at this moment, she needed to get away from the concern in his eyes before she puked and or her chest exploded.

"Yes, yeah I know, we will—I promise. She can help." He reached out, hands freezing a second short of her shoulders.

Alice froze, "…She?"

Relief plastered on his face as she stopped trying to push past him. He smiled hesitantly, "Yeah, she. I promise she won't hurt you. I just, she can help, okay? Please, give her a chance?"

"Yeah, whatever." Images of sweet, happy girls with blonde hair and clear eyes filtered through her vision. Small voices echoed in her ears, gently assuring her of her uselessness and unworthiness. Jasper would never want to take in someone like her, not when she was a glass vase teetering on the edge of the proverbial countertop.

The gentle whispers morphed into glaring eyes, staring at her across a tabletop as they counted individual dollar bills, damp from her sweat after standing out in the summer heat moving his 'merchandise.'

Alice shook the vision of James from her head. Her temples throbbed.

"How long until your girlfriend gets here?" She turned away and tried to keep her voice level.

The sound of his deep, light laughter surrounded her. Fury bubbled up to her eyes, tears peeking out from behind her lashes as she furiously swiped them away. Now he was _laughing_ at her.

"She's not my girlfriend, maybe a grandma, but, no girlfriend." He grinned.

"Oh. Alright." She blinked and rubbed both eyes with her sleeves, still refusing to look at him.

Jesus. She felt like such a crazy bitch. Was this withdrawal, or a symptom of sobriety? Did all sober people feel so manic constantly, bouncing uncontrollably between highs and lows? She didn't remember, she didn't quite even remember sobriety at all. At least with drugs, she could control the oncoming emotions, at least she could control the dose—this was insanity.

But it was worth it, everything was worth it for Bella.

So Alice took a seat behind Jasper's store counter, where she stayed out of sight for the hours "until church ended," as Jasper had put it.

Because apparently church wasn't only a Sunday thing. Who knew.

As customers passed through the store, Alice enjoyed no average amounts of attention. People seemed to either see right through her or were unable to look away. On the occasion where their eyes met, she kept her gaze soft and even, attempting a small smile. In truth, she wanted to curl inwards and dive under the counter. What were they thinking when they saw her, unkept and red-eyed as she picked at broken strands of her hair? What did they think of Jasper, for letting her sit beside him at the counter?

Without intending to, Alice blew out a gust of air and shut her eyes.

"Hungry? We can take a quick lunch. Mrs. Esme won't be here for another hour or so, she's got clean-up and what not after group sessions."

Clean-up and what not. Alice tasted the words on her tongue. Lightning bolts of images flooded her mind, showing a short older woman with a kind smile. She seemed like the sort who would always have dirt under her nails—but everyone always blamed it on a penchant for gardening rather than uncleanliness. She wondered for a moment whether this woman was the aforementioned Mrs. Esme.

She would find out soon enough.

"I just, I don't know"—Alice chewed on her lip—"it feels so shitty, you know? Eating when I'm not sure where she is?"

Jasper nodded, pulling open the refrigerator behind the counter. Countless empty bottled rattled, dropping the sound right into Alice's stomach. She grabbed a fistful of her shirt as if to intimidate it against growling.

It growled anyway, loudly with wet gurgles that seemed to drown out all white noise in the small store. She could feel the blood rise to her cheeks as Jasper tossed her a yogurt.

"I'll pay you back," she promised.

"For an expired yogurt? No thanks. You're helping me clear this out. Dad's been on my ass to clean it lately anyway." He knocked a few empty mustard bottles aside and tossed them into the trash bin with surprising ease. There had to be at least six—who needed so much mustard?

"Besides," he continued, "If you want to keep walking around in the rain looking for Bella, you're going need to keep healthy."

He was right. She peeled back the lid and sniffed the yogurt suspiciously. "You're not trying to poison me, are you?" It smelled fine, but he had said it was overdue…

"Maybe," he laughed at his own joke before quickly backtracking, "just kidding—it's okay, seriously. Unless it doesn't smell right, I can grab a different one—"

It was Alice's turn to laugh. "It's okay, Jaz. I'm teasing. Christ."

A bright red butterfly blush wrapped his face before she realized what she had called him. He smiled. She set her jaw and focused on shaping her yogurt lid into a spoon, forcing the aluminum flat in her palm.

"I wanted to be a designer," she said suddenly. Jasper pulled his head back from the fridge to watch her carefully.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this. We were just going to get on our feet but you start thinking week to week and it turns to day to day, second to second and time just slips out from under you—It just takes you out, a fucking slip-n-slide, I don't know how to take control, you know? How do you grab something like that? How do you take hold when you're just fallin', you know? I just, she was my stability and, shit, I just, _fuck._ " The yogurt in her hands was shaking.

Jasper nodded. "I hear you," he murmured, "I don't understand, but I hear you."

Alice nodded.

Jasper hesitated, shifting closer to her. "Alice… do you… do you want a hug, or something? I don't know, I just,"

"No, no, sorry, no"—she reared back, knees tugged up to her chest—"Sorry, sorry I shouldn't have said anything, I'm fine thanks." _Please don't come close, please don't hold me._ Her skin burned with the fires of shame, self-loathing dripping down her veins from the I.V. that was her brain.

He stuttered an apology and sat back, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. They ate in an awkward silence, the only sound being Alice's aluminum spoon scraping against the plastic cup.

Time passed in a stiff fashion until the store door swung open with a clean, seemingly unassisted ease as a woman stepped through.

"Jasper," she smiled kindly and held out an arm. Jasper slipped behind Alice to embrace the woman on the other side of the counter.

"I'm sorry it took so long," she sighed, "thing's have been difficult since so many of our volunteers are out sick."

"I'm sorry, if I didn't have to be here I would try to help." An apologetic smile spread across his face, almost like he actually meant it. _Did he actually mean that?_ Alice wondered. His pure kindness pierced her heart, conjuring images of Bella.

"This must be your friend." The woman held out a steady hand.

Alice stared at the dirt under her nails.

"Esme." She guessed.

"Yes, dear." Her rosy cheeks and glossy hair disguised her true age, every inch of her vibrating with energy. Alice could feel a sense of ease sneaking into her heart, despite her attempts to squash it.

Slowly, Alice placed her hand in the woman's—her movements jerky and unsure. She felt like a wild animal, is that what she looked like to others? A cornered animal?

Esme grasped Alice's small fingers between her own, meeting her eyes with an even look.

"My dear," Esme said, her every mountainous word standing steadily on Alice's aching bones, "everything is going to be alright, now."

And Alice believed her as, for the first time since she could remember, the voices and visions that layered over her mind and movements were finally silent.


	6. Chapter 6

**Like Cracked Steel**

Hey guys,

This one is all Bella and Hades. See you on the other side.

-O.K.

* * *

Six

Hades stood in front of Bella but refused to meet her eyes.

He had spent years fighting for her, grief and determination consuming his mind until it was riddled with holes by the memories that haunted him—bullets, assaulting from all mental corners. Every second he spent awaiting the snipers that hid in every little thing—the hairbrush tucked in his nightstand, the soft tunics buried in the back of his closets—every little thing loaded with images of the absolute only and supreme love of his life, her ghost dragging him along.

Only now, after the battle and been said and done, finally won, Hades had emerged on the wrong side.

At least he had the decency to look ashamed.

Bella knew this. She guessed this from the way he so carefully acted, the soft, purposeful intention behind every gesture and word. She understood now, after hours of discussion with Morpheus, just the potential expanse of Hades's fury and sadness.

She understood. She almost felt bad.

"I suppose you have summoned me in order to ask to be returned home," he began slowly, "but, I must remind you, this is impossible and ill-advised."

"Can you stop assuming what I'm going to say?" She stopped herself and took a breath. They needed to start over. This situation was complex enough; she couldn't afford to alienate him. They had to try something else.

That was why she had called for him. That was why she was back in that kitchen that contrasted so brilliantly with the entirety of this whole new, alien landscape. The familiar breakfast nook now discomforted her, resting heavily in an almost uncanny valley within her gut. There was something eerie about finding something familiar and unassuming so out of place in this suspicious new land; it felt staged.

Everything was staged, though. Staged for her, for her "homecoming."

"Then why" Hades stopped midsentence as Bella dropped the heavy sketchbook onto the ground. The _thunk_ echoed off the lofty ceiling.

She sat down cross-legged on the floor, refusing to meet his suddenly keen gaze as she flipped the book open. The first image was of a delicate flower.

She looked up at Hades. He looked confused. So, he hadn't seen the sketchbook before after all. Morpheus had said that he'd never shown Hades—he was afraid of triggering another one of his "moods"—but Bella wasn't sure if she'd believed him.

She flipped to the next page, to a picture of Hades sitting beside Persephone, their arms interlaced.

She looked back to Hades, noting the light in his eyes, quickly replaced by conflict.

"Where did you get that?" His voice was volcanic, dragged from the roots of his toes as it gushed from his mouth like dark smoke.

"Morpheus," she said slowly, eyes pinned to the picture, "I want you to tell me about them."

"He refused to?" He was carefully composed, each word carefully plucked and dropped on the ground at Bella's feet like a sacrifice.

"No, I wanted to ask you. Will you tell me about them?"

"Bella," he took a step forward, suddenly open in expression and tone as he pressed toward her, "Persephone, please, I must apologize for my behavior—"

She cut him off quickly. "I just want to hear about these, please."

There was a moment of silence. Was he hesitating?

With a distinctly ethereal elegance, Hades lowered himself onto the floor across from Bella. She tried to suppress the tremors that spread up her knees and elbows; if he noticed, he didn't let his reaction show.

"If I am entirely honest," he started, "I cannot remember which night that picture depicts."

This surprised Bella. He had counted the seconds for four hundred years while she was gone and now he couldn't remember the context surrounding a photo? In general, that wouldn't be so concerning—but he had acted so obsessively… Did he feel guilty? Had he neglected Persephone for the entirety of their marriage, only regretting his actions when she was gone?

Hades glanced at her expression and quickly explained himself, "We had an evening tradition of sitting in the courtyard together. This exact scene is one of thousands exactly like it."

Bella glanced up at him.

"Each night was as special as the last," he insisted.

She snorted. His desperate attempts to keep her happy were starting to irritate her. The constant apologizing set her on edge. "Right, super special—that's why you remember each one."

Hades stared at her. She kept her eyes trained on the page, refusing to meet his gaze.

A large hand hovered over her own, eclipsing her pale skin as his dark fingers crackled with electricity.

He gestured loosely, "May I, please?"

She shrugged.

Hades took the book gently into his hands, cradling it like a religious text as he gently flipped one page after the other—carefully isolating his contact with the parchment to the upper corners. He made Bella feel like a savage after she had practically tossed the book onto the floor.

"Please, this image here,"—Hades turned the book toward her, keeping it propped up in his arms—"you had just arrived for the first time into our realm. You caught Morpheus sketching and you begged him to let you pose for a portrait until he agreed just to silence your pleas, though you couldn't keep from laughing. The man is a good artist, for all his faults; see there, he caught your smile," Hades carried on, but Bella had barely looked at the soft drawing of her mirrored image. Instead, she was watching Hades as he carried on, his dark eyes squinting slightly as he gazed in admiration down at the book in his hands. He was entirely lost in the moment, not at all realizing Bella had long since stopped listening.

"Hades," she said, softly.

He slowly raised his eyes to look at her.

She sat up on her knees so their eyes could be level.

"It's nice to meet you," she said softly, decisively, "but I don't know this woman. I'm still very confused, but, if you can, I'd like to learn about this. I want to understand."

Hades slowly slid the book onto his lap, reaching out to grasp Bella's hand with both of his own. They swallowed hers, though she was simultaneously struck by how graceful they appeared. Not quite dainty, but elegant. She could feel his smooth fingertips brush along her wrist as he bowed his head deeply.

She thought back to that first night when he had asked to do the same when he had asked to hold her hand across the table. Then, she had felt nothing. Now, she felt a soft chime of fear pressed down to her toes as she tried not to think of the library. The thought of finding comfort in his hands was outrageous.

"Bella," he murmured, "I would love nothing more."

It was a start. A truce; Bella was willing to forgive this man for a moment, though she desperately wanted to rip her hand from his. She was in an alien landscape—that much was clear. Without his help, she would never find her sister.

Besides Alice, Bella had been haunted by images of fire and fury every time she closed her eyes. She had been unable to wipe Hecate and her horrible powers from her mind. That night had proven this world was full of dark things currently beyond her control—things she would never understand on her own.

Hades carefully tucked the sketchbook under his arm after gingerly pressing it closed. Though his expression remained cool and his posture stayed stiff, the affection he felt for his wife and the damage he had suffered was clear in the way he handled a simple drawn image of the woman he had lost.

And he _had_ lost her. Bella understood that; she was no goddess. At best, she was Persephone's echo, bouncing off the walls in a scattered cacophony.

Hades stood, holding out his arm as she rose beside him. She ignored him and crossed her arms over her chest. His expression remained neutral as he tucked his elbow back into place and turned. "Please, come."

She followed him out of the kitchen stiffly.

They made their way back through the hallways that seemed to map the passage of time, past the giant vases and exquisite mosaics. She kept her eyes carefully on the heels of his sandaled feet, carefully avoiding the massive library doors that stared them down. But he led her past them, and she watched as the walls gradually turned into a soft white marble and columns dotted their sides. That same synthetic sunlight she had seen the first and only time she'd ventured outside now lit rows of light across the floor—Bella couldn't help but compare them to prison bars.

The walls on either side of them eventually became more column that solid surface before they eventually parted into a bright entryway.

Bella hesitated.

"Cerberus has no access to this courtyard," Hades guessed the source of her discomfort, "though he would be devastated to know you feared him as such."

"I mean, he had three heads." Bella brushed past him and shuffled slowly into the courtyard.

She was shocked by the slate floor under her feet. For some reason, she had always believed a courtyard was just a small garden, or what real estate agents tried to call back-alley to make it sound less sketchy.

But this was, she assumed, an actual courtyard. One from storybooks and rich homes, where trees sit in precisely placed planters and bushes line the perimeter, vines crawling up to form a spider web of flowers that dripped down to brush her cheeks with soft petals.

She still didn't expect the ground to be slate.

A sudden cold seeped up into her toes. She jerked, looking down to realize her sneakers had been soaked through by a steady stream of water that flowed over the stones.

"You liked to be in water as much as possible." Hades stepped forward. Each movement seemed straight from the uncanny valley; if it weren't for the presence of his deep voice, Bella would have easily mistaken him for one of the curved statues hidden among the vines. His olive skin glowed, his dark hair showing strands of copper for the first time.

"It's freezing." Bella took a step back, perching cautiously on a bench. She couldn't help but notice it was the perfect size for her—most benches were too tall.

"Morpheus would joke that you were a nymph in disguise. You found it amusing, somehow." He sniffed.

"At least Morpheus—" she stopped and pursed her lips.

"At least Morpheus is kind," Hades replied evenly. He moved to sit beside her, laying his hands on his lap as he dipped his chin toward the sun. "This isn't the courtyard we would spend time in. Truthfully, before you were taken from me, I had only been in this courtyard a few times following its construction. You insisted on having space to yourself, somewhere similar to where you spent your childhood."

Taken from him. He always insisted on that, she wondered whether it was really true. Persephone seemed in love in the pictures Bella had seen, but pictures—especially drawings—could be deceiving.

"After you were gone… I started spending my days here. Beside our apartments, it was the closest I could feel to you."

"Hades…" Bella tucked up her knees, laying her chin on her hands.

Somewhere along the line she realized, she had begun to believe this. She had accepted this as a reality, and she had begun to believe in him as a person—though, she still wasn't sure his version of the story was accurate.

"I understand you do not remember me," he said quietly, "but, please,"

"Hades"—she interrupted him, her feet dropping to the ground—"Hades, I don't _remember_ you, I don't know you. I'm not this woman. I never will be, please—you have to understand that. This is insane. I understand it, but please, I'm not who you think I am. I can't be who you want me to be."

He said nothing, turning his gaze down to her.

Bella met it.

"I expected things to be easy," he said finally, "I expected you to awaken the moment you returned, but you've lived a lifetime… without me." His lips spread into a thin line, his hands tense on his lap.

Bella's eyes widened as she noticed the glassy tint to his gaze. The grief that threatened to snap through his careful façade peeked out at her, warping the cool, statuesque god down to her size.

He almost looked human. Just a lost boy on a bench, his knees too tall and his eyes too old. She thought about her own days waiting for Alice, sitting curled on a porch step as haunting noises filtered through the doorway. The soft look that comes from wanting to cry, but lacking the tears to do so—fresh out on the energy required to feel sorrow.

She knew that look.

Her hand inched across her knees, cautiously wrapping around his.

"Bella,"—he turned on the bench, facing her—"I was wrong. I understand this will be difficult. You cannot return to your life as it once was, for reasons far beyond me. Should you…should you desire to go on without me, however, and live apart, I will… I will help you do so. I will find you and your sister a safe haven, I will protect you from afar. You will never see me, should you wish it."

What a development. There was her freedom, in some shape or form, laid in front of her—but would it truly be that easy? Going somewhere far away, distant from Hades, from three-headed dogs, from even James?

She wondered how hard it must have been for Hades to offer that. How long had he been planning on giving her a chance out? Was it a last-minute offer, or had he been planning on this since the day in the library?

Was he being honest? Or was he testing the extent of her desperation to get out?

She couldn't tell, as he had turned his face back to the sky. His eyes were squeezed shut.

There was a slight pressure as he softly squeezed her hand, unable to help himself.

Bella blew a sigh out between her lips. "No, I… let me think, please."

She could see Hades' shoulders drop in relief. True, she hadn't turned down the offer, but she hadn't jumped at the chance to escape either.

"Please, take all the time you desire."

She bobbed her head, leaning back to rest in the sunlight.

Alice's eyes glared at her from the backs of her eyelids. Bella pushed the image away, focusing on the gurgling water rushing below her feet. She hadn't abandoned Alice—or, if she had, it was for good reason. What else was she supposed to do? Agree to let them be locked up god-knows-where when gods were supposedly after them?

She still wasn't sure Hades was telling the truth. But he had shrunk before her eyes today, scaling down to her level until she could meet his eyes without fear. He was a man—a powerful, dangerous, angry man, but still, only a man grieving his lost wife.

He was lost in the maze of his own past, desperately trying to find the exit by designing a future. He had thought that finding her would free him from the cage of fury and injustice that ate away at his soul—instead, he had found himself right plunk center of the labyrinth.

And she was his minotaur.

The sound of water slowly swallowed her brain, lulling her to sleep under a blanket of sunlight and speckled leaves. Hades turned to glance at her, admiring the curve of her nose and the curtain of lashes that kissed her cheeks as she dozed.

He forced himself to look away, shutting his own eyes as his pain was eased.

Together, they dozed in Persephone's courtyard—hands clasped.

* * *

Oh, Hades. Poor guy just can't come to terms with Bella being her own person.

So? What do you guys think about the current direction of the story?

Heads up, **I'm currently, desperately looking for a beta reader.** Shoot me a message if you're interested or if you know a good place to find one.

Thanks, ya'll.

-O.K.


	7. Chapter 7

Like Cracked Steel

Hey ya'll,

Happy pride month! Sorry for the delay—I work two jobs as well as school, so, you know.

See you on the other side.

O.K.

* * *

Seven

Esme and Jasper sat on either side of Alice. Her small eyes reflected the concerned light within Esme's gaze. Jasper had shut the shop early, shutting the blinds and flicking on the rest of the flickering iridescent lamps that lined the ceiling even though it was still plenty bright outside.

The closed-in, shut shop should have scared her. The two people who seemed to arch and curl over her cross-legged figured should have _terrified_ her. Two arching buildings ready to collapse onto her, bury her in the rubble of their words as their mouths blast holes in the soft landscaping of her soul.

But she was calm. As long as the woman, as long as Esme laid her hand on her, Alice was able to sink into the ease of a quiet mind. This was better than any drug, the soft ecstasy of ease that drifted up her bones and pillowed her mind. For the first time in so, _so_ long, Alice was at ease. The terrifying arches that both Jasper and Esme, that any person so usually made, became support beams.

It was thanks to this enveloping sense of safety that Alice, with Esme's hand on her leg, was able to spill her story onto the battered shop counter. She watched the words as they fell in front of her, unable to look at either Esme or Jasper as she built the fractured picture of her and Bella's childhood.

The foster homes, the foster parents who either cared too little or much, too much in all the wrong ways—all the wrong places. James and his blond hair, his promises of protection that wrapped Alice's fingers. She had known he was bad news, but the voices and echoes that ate away at her brain pushed her toward him. She convinced herself it had been the best decision for Bella, ultimately, but in truth, it had been the pitted descent his pills and powders promised.

She had never even enjoyed the bliss they supplied—the joy so many others found themselves in deep love with.

No, that was a lie.

It hurt to admit, but she couldn't help herself as she spilled outward: "I did enjoy them, I, I want some more, honestly, but I don't—does that even make sense? I just need to find Bella."

Shame swallowed her cheeks and chest as she turned from Jasper. She didn't need to see his gaze to feel his disapproval.

She wasn't broken, though. She had survived, and she would continue to do so with or without them—she just needed to find Bella. To hell with his approval, what had he faced anyway? He had no clue what it was like to live in an ocean of voices and visions not his own.

"I'll kill him."

Alice turned to look at Jasper evenly, his grey eyes had become storm clouds as he looked down fiercely. Alice realized he was staring at her trembling hands and she clasped them.

"I'm not scared, it's just the withdrawal." She felt the need to justify her shaking, and somehow withdrawal was less embarrassing than fear.

"He got you hooked on that shit, I'll fucking kill him. Taking advantage of people like that, fucking scumbag."

"I can take care of myself," Alice snapped. Esme's hand squeezed her leg softly and Alice relaxed her shoulders, which had tensed as she watched Jasper's fury build.

"Death and violence will solve nothing. We will call the proper authorities—"Esme quickly added as she saw Alice's mouth jerk open, cutting her off before she could protest—" _If and when_ it becomes necessary. As of now, we should focus on Bella and make sure you're safe, Alice."

Esme grasped both of Alice's hands in her own. The smell of soft lilacs and fresh soil swallowed the shop as she smiled gently, the lines and wrinkles along Esme's eyes and lips smoothing into her golden skin.

"Alice, you've faced immense struggle but please understand, you are not at fault. The powers meant to help you have failed you. You will not have to be alone again."

Despite her soft, relaxed state, the words still triggered a buried, cynical anger within Alice. "I wasn't alone, Bella and I were never alone. I don't need a future; I don't care about any of the shitheads that were supposed to be here—I don't need anything but her."

Jasper reached out a hand to place on her shoulder, but she shrugged him away. She didn't want pity or practiced lines from some ABC drama—she wanted solutions. She wanted her sister.

He was too kind anyway. Too sweet for her, too similar to her innocent sister. He was capable, but he was _good,_ and she needed to protect him from the dark swirl of chaos that seemed to swim in her footsteps.

As if he sensed her line of thinking, Jasper spun in his own chair to face her, angling his body onto the counter with his arm splayed out in front of her. Helplessly, her eyes trailed up to the bicep that peeked from the sleeve of his shirt.

"Alice, I know you won't believe me—I wouldn't, after all that—but, I've got your back."

It was an innocent phrase that made her think of children playing knights and dragons in a yard somewhere. _'I've got your back.'_ What would that have been like?

But here he was, eyes so honest and genuine in his intent that she nearly believed him.

Then the cop pounded on the door.

"Hello? Anyone in there?" A fist hammered at the metal frame of the glass door. The shutters shivered along with Alice's spine. She jerked away from Esme's hand and gasped, standing stock-still with her arms stiff against the counter.

"Hello?! Police—open up!"

"You called the _cops?!_ " Alice hissed. She whipped around the glare at Jasper, who had stood up beside her, his hands palms up in front of him—"I didn't—I swear."

" _Shit."_ Where was an exit? "Backdoor?"

"Stockroom," he answered without hesitation, shaken by her sudden directness. He probably expected her to blow up on him, but she didn't have time to be angry.

"Alice," Esme stood and attempted to grab her arm, but Alice was gone. She had dodged out from behind the counter as the bashing continued. She tried not to think too much about the cracks that had shaken her heart with each knock on the door. She had never trusted Jasper, she told herself, this wasn't shocking. His kindness, Esme's kindness meant nothing; no one was genuine. It was just her and Bella.

She needed to find Bella.

The door creaked with disuse as she rammed her shoulder into the lever, stumbling into the back alley and into the dank air. Garbage and rotting substances that had long-ago lost any distinguishable shape mushed under her feet as she sprinted from the store.

The moment she stepped outside the voices and spears of images assaulted her with more fury than ever before—angry in their neglect. Images of Bella screaming as flames bit her cheeks and eyes filled Alice's vision. The smell of burning flesh filled her nose.

 _She's lost because of you. You need to find James, find him and stay calm—you need help to stay calm, you need something to keep stable…_

Alice choked.

The world burst into an explosive stop as the voice was silenced by a brick wall. Alice reared back, her hands cupping her bleeding nose. She had been so entrenched in the flurry of emotions and visions that she had slammed straight into the side of a building.

"Alice!"

She turned, barely making out Jasper's figure as he ran toward her. Sweat peeked out from under his arms despite the cold. Was it from nerves, or had he really had to push himself to keep up with her?

Had she made it far at all? She could still see the store in the distance, sans cop. Had he followed her too?

"Stay back!" Alice shouted, blood slipping into her mouth. She resisted the urge to spit.

"Are you okay? _Fuck,_ is that from you? Alice please, I didn't call the cops—" Jasper rushed toward her and she jerked back. She could see the massive bloodstain she had left on the brick, quickly fading into the red stone.

"Miss?"

They both turned. A woman, a housewife maybe, stood with her keys clutched in her hand like Wolverine. Her eyes darted back and forth between Alice and Jasper, no doubt coming to seemingly obvious conclusions.

"Please," Alice stepped forward and coughed, pulling down her hands to reveal her face in all its gory glory, "please, help me, I have to get out of here—"

"The car is unlocked," the woman answered without hesitation. Despite her recent interactions, Alice immediately decided she liked this woman.

"Alice," Jasper lurched forward, palms up in an attempt to dissuade her. "Please, don't do this, we can figure this out."

"Leave her the hell alone, asshole," the woman snapped. She sounded like a mom.

 _Get in the car,_ a voice murmured in Alice's mind. It was a melody compared to the harsh drumbeats of the other mental intrusions swelling her brain.

As if she needed any more encouragement.

The car door swung open and she slipped into the soft seating, cupping her nose to keep the blood from spilling onto the interior. Still, her hand left a horrifying red print on the door handle as she slammed it shut.

The woman slipped into the driver's seat, quickly jamming the keys into the ignition and starting the car before she had even shut the door.

"Buckle up, hun." The car roared to life, jerking forward as they swerved into traffic. A car laid on their horn as they cut them off.

Alice caught a glimpse of Jasper in the rearview mirror, his chest heaving as he rand a hand through his deflated hair.

A massive, mountain of a man jogged up to meet him just as they pulled out into traffic. Alice couldn't see the badge on his chest, but she knew that he was the cop who had been shaking the store with his knocks.

She pulled her eyes away and sobbed, once, as the pain spreading through her face brought unwanted tears to her eyes.

"Oh, honey, here." The woman—who Alice had decided to trust for now, if for no other reason than the random, serendipitous nature of her appearance—reached over to pull open the glove box and retrieve a collection of Kleenex.

Alice stuffed them up and around her nose, shutting her eyes to the pain and the voices. If she had been calm, if she had been able to focus around the pain, she might have noticed the soft, triumphant look in her rescuer's eyes.

She might have heard the locks click as they slowly pushed through traffic.

* * *

"Will you really let her go so easily?"

"Shh, don't wake her."

Hecate sat carefully across from Hades, where he sat carefully on the long bench. Bella's heels pressed into his thigh as she lay stretched across the bench. She had fallen into a deep sleep after only an hour or so of light dozing and had slumped awkwardly to the side in the process. Exhausted, she slept through the awkward angling of her neck. Hades, less tolerant of watching the vision of his lost wife in a position that would no-doubt cause her pain when she awoke, eventually called for Hecate to bring a cushion for her head.

He had helped ease her onto the bench, relishing the feel of his hands on her small shoulders but reluctant to push it any further. He didn't want to move her more than absolutely necessary, not now that she had finally showed an openness—or at least, neutral acceptance—toward his presence. He doubted she would react well to his picking her up and moving her to a foreign couch or bed.

"You offered freedom," Hecate continued. It was doubtful that an explosion could wake the slightly snoring girl beside Hades, but he had tried to encourage Hecate into silence anyway. He wasn't even sure why he tried, he knew Hecate was smarter than that.

"And she'll have it, should she ask for it."

"She will." Hecate stared at him intently. "Will you give it, though?"

"If you're asking whether I'll let her go again then no, I won't. I'll always be there, I will forever live in her footsteps now that I have found her path—but she won't see me. She can live a human life, and I will wait in the periphery." He was at ease with this. So long as he could watch her, protect her… In truth, this fiery girl was so different than the wife he had known, curious and sharp instead of gleeful and vain, he often felt the compulsion to step away and watch her from afar until he could make sense of it all.

"So you lied."

He met Hecate's gaze sharply, glaring. "I did not. I just said I would let her leave, should she wish it."

"You just said you would watch her like an animal to be studied, you would never let her live freely," Hecate reasoned.

Hades looked down, his fingers curling around Bella's ankle as her face twisted in response to some especially powerful dream.

"I'm trying," he said slowly.

"You're improving," Hecate assured him, her voice softening. "But you will lose her if you refuse to be honest. First to her, then to yourself."

"Looks like someone's getting cozy." A smug voiced echoed off the walls of the garden. Bella's face twisted further in her sleep, brows furrowing as Hades looked up sharply and hissed an _shh_ at the looming figure in the doorway.

"At ease, captain," Morpheus joked, sauntering into the garden, "I'm the god of dreams—you really think I would wake up our little treasure? Look at how peaceful she is, she's as happy as a kitten in the dreams I sent her. Waking her up would be a tragedy, it would be ruining a pure masterpiece."

"How humble," Hecate mused.

Despite the low frustration that always arrived alongside Morpheus filling Hades's lungs, he bobbed his head. "Thank you. She needed to rest but I wasn't sure how to calm her."

"Think I couldn't tell? Kiddo was practically a live wire when she showed up on my doorstep." Morpheus slumped to the floor in front of Bella, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Hades glared down at him, his lips pursed tightly as his hand tightened on Bella's ankle.

"Down boy," Morpheus smirked. "Maybe if you weren't such an ass she wouldn't be so distant."

Hades didn't try to deny the jealousy that bubbled up in his chest. Morpheus and Persephone had always had a unique relationship, and he had always suspected they shared an enjoyment of his irritation toward their flirting and coy joking. Though, he had understood Persephone's wild nature—as well as her loyalty, despite her seemingly flippant personality. To try and control his wife would be the death of them and he felt guilty enough for keeping her underground with him.

But this woman, Bella, didn't show the same easy traits his wife had—her nature was more careful, more precise, and so her immediate trust in Morpheus irritated him. The ease with which Morpheus was able to touch her, seemingly unburdened by past memories and hesitations, bothered him even more.

"We were discussing Hades's offer of freedom." Hecate crossed one pale leg over the other.

"Were you." Morpheus sat back, arms bent and hands on his knees as he studied Bella's face thoughtfully. "Well, you'll be interested to hear Emmet's news, then."

"He found her sister?" Hades sat forward. "Where? Was she…alone?"

"He found her," Morpheus nodded. "He found mommy-dearest, too."

"Demeter found her?"

"You didn't really expect to hide this from her, did you?"

"I had hoped, for at least a time." Hades let out his breath in a long gust, running a hand through his tangled curls. "For a time."

"A time for you is forever for anyone else." Hecate smiled ruefully.

"Maybe we can go with her," Morpheus smiled. "Run some interference. It's been a while since we took a trip above, you haven't even experienced the glories of the internet."

Hades frowned. The last thing he wanted was to involve Demeter. Their constant war over Persephone's company had only just ended before she had disappeared, and now it had all the potential to begin again. He doubted Demeter would be courteous enough to not use Bella's current lack of memory of her past life against him.

A manufactured breeze blew past him, rustling the vine leaves.

The entire situation left a sour taste in his mouth. He only wanted to whisk Bella away, awaken her memories somehow and lay with her in what had once been their shared bed—burrowed under the covers and warm in their reunion.

He hadn't pictured making a trip in order to appease the girl who currently despised him, alongside the titan who judged him and the fellow god who mocked him.

"What was the girl's name again?" Hades rubbed his face, pinching the bridge between his nose tightly.

"Alice?"

All three immortal heads turned to the soft, sleep-sore voice of the girl on the bench. Her cheeks were flushed, a line imprinted from her lips to the corner of her eyes from a wrinkle in the cushion. She propped herself up on one elbow, looking at the three faces around her. "Are you talking about Alice?" she asked again, a bit more desperately.

"Yes, beautiful girl." Morpheus grinned. "Welcome to the world of the living—or, rather, the awakened."

Hecate glanced at Hades and smiled.

Hades sighed, the loss of the warm pressure of Bella's heels against his thigh biting into his bitter heart.

He wondered whether they would ever share a peaceful moment again.

* * *

Thoughts?

Thanks to all who have reviewed, read, favorited, and followed. You're my heroes.

This story is all planned out, with a direct line ahead to the end—so don't despair, it will be finished. Still, I would love to hear your thoughts.

I don't think I'll ever get tired of Morpheus. He's so easy to write compared to Hades, it's almost a relief when I reach his lines.

Much love,

O.K.


	8. Chapter 8

**TW:** Mentions of intended/potential child abuse (no actual abuse or explicit descriptions)

 **Sibyl** : Greek oracles or prophets. The most famous being the Delphic Sibyl, who predated the very real Pythia, the priestesses of Apollo at Delphi.

And on we go.

* * *

Eight

"Wait, you're letting me go?"

They were still in the courtyard, Bella's hands stilled in the pools of water that had gathered around her as she sat on the ground, watching Hades as he sat stiffly on the bench in front of her. The cold water bit into her thighs, but she found herself grounded in the feeling. The steady cold kept her alive in the present, focused and familiar as she attempted to quell the constant panic that seemed to have taken up home in her chest. A thick balloon of anxiety, renting out the spot between her lungs. Hecate's steady gaze was also trained on the lord of death, even in her judgment. Hades had explained their plan to go back to Bella's world, to reunite her with Alice.

"I will escort you to your sister." Hades dropped each word carefully into her lap. "My… messenger found Alice. I sent him after you were brought here, to ensure her safety."

Even if it was a ploy to play into her favor, Bella felt her chest tighten at the gesture. He had looked out for Alice, considerate enough to at least not totally abandon her, and there was a level of respect earned in that.

"Thank you," she said, her voice cracking earnestly.

He spread his hands on his lap and looked away with a slight bob of his chin, unsure what to do with her sincerity.

Morpheus took advantage of the silence to stand, stretching his arms with a slight pop in each shoulder. Bella found herself leaning away from his towering figure, her fingers pressing into the floor as the water swirled around them.

She felt a thousand years older than she had, what, days ago? How could she leave this place and find Alice again, live again in a world she knew now sat squarely on top of another?

She stood, arms crossed tightly around her waist. "Wait, you're all coming, right?"

The three of them looked at her, Morpheus and Hades in surprise paired with Hecate's even amusement. Bella shifted her weight anxiously from one foot to the other, anger and fear brawling in her gut.

"You wish for us to come?" Hades asked.

"You expect me to just go back to my old shit like nothing happened? Just, what, live and pretend this"—she waved her arm in a circle that cut Hade's breath straight from his lungs—"isn't real? That I'm not, what, some goddess in a human body? That I'm not supposedly, you know." She rubbed her hands together, her thumb rolling over the ghost of where a wedding band might sit. Hades's gaze locked in on the spot.

"In truth, we were planning to accompany you, would you have us, as danger still lingers—" Hades started carefully.

"It's _always_ dangerous," Bella shot back. "I want answers, and I want you to talk to Alice." _Otherwise, she'll never believe me._ She could practically picture Alice's concerned expression as she would cradle Bella's face while Bella desperately tried to explain. _No, really, I was in Hell, or the underworld, whatever, and there was this three-headed dog, and some fuck who said we were married. No, Alice, I promise I'm not high, I'm okay, really, don't call an ambulance, we can't afford that shit._ Her heart clenched, imagining the heartbreak her sister must be feeling—who was making sure she was sleeping alright? Or eating? Had James kept in line?

"I want to go. Now." Bella turned to Hades. "I want to leave."

"It may be best we clear the fog on your mind before you leave, little one." Hecate stood, her gentle hand grasping Bella's shoulder with a cooling grip. A burst of fresh calm spread through Bella's core like a menthol breeze. She breathed, her sinuses nearly burning.

Bella eyed the titan wearily. She hadn't forgotten what had happened the last time Hecate was around. She had a feeling the sudden cold calm poking at her mind was anything but natural.

"Bella," Hades murmured. "Let me tell you about your mother. Your past. How you came here. I believe it to be best we speak now before we return to your world."

"I want to find Alice," Bella nearly begged, but she sat. She dug her thumbnail into her skin, cutting crescent moons into her fingers.

"We will," Hades promised. "But it's best we speak now."

"My mother?" He had her attention.

"Demeter," Morpheus sighed, dropping to the ground and running a hand through his shaggy hair. "Bitter bitch."

Hades's gaze snapped sharply to him. Morpheus laughed, "What? Like she's going to hear me all the way down here?"

"My mom's a bitch and my husband is an asshole." Bella dropped her head into her hands. Guess family always sucked, even for a goddess.

"Your mother is protective," Hades ground out, his jaw taught as he attempted to control his irritation toward the immature excuse for an immortal now sitting so close beside his once wife. "You were born in a garden of eternal spring on a bed of irises. An Eden, per say. Demeter, from the moment you were born, cradled you close to her side. In truth, she made a wall of her arms to protect you from the rest of us, to isolate you.

"Your father, Zeus, is champion over us all. You were born out of wedlock, out of an affair between Demeter and himself. His wife, Hera—"

"Another vengeful bitch," Morpheus snorted.

A puff of hot air slipped from Hades's clenched teeth. Morpheus held up his hands in retreat.

"Hera," Hades continued, "is, indeed, vengeful. And you, from the moment you were born, were the pinnacle of innocence and purity. Beyond simply a maiden, you were the embodiment of life. Against the harshest forces, you would stand no chance, and Demeter could no more protect you than she could change you. So she hid you away in your garden to be raised alongside the water nymphs."

"My father was already married?" Somehow, this failed to shock Bella. But… parents. What a concept to behold, a woman and a man who had created her, held her. She wondered whether it was anything like she had seen with Alice, the men who wandered in and out of their home like ants marching back and forth from their farm, taking bits of their souls away with them.

"Married and impulsive," Hades confirmed. "Too impulsive…" He hesitated.

His lips had thinned into a stiff line, his eyes seeking support in the quiet Hecate. Bella felt the tension thicken, the hair on her arms standing to attention. "What? What did he do?"

"Some gods have… interesting views on sex and desires. Zeus lives a life of lust and power; he takes what he desires. He believes everything below him is his by birthright, as king of the sky."

"Did he try to hurt my mother?" Bella stood, furious for a woman she had never known existed before this moment. _Why am I so mad?_

"He approached your mother while you were barely out of your adolescence," Hades said lowly. "Zeus… requested you would be sent to him."

"Why?" Bella stared at them. For the first time, none of the three would meet her gaze. Even Morpheus was silent, his gaze hard as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Hades spread out his hands, tracing the creases of his knuckles with his gaze before snapping them shut into two fists. He finally looked up at her, mouth open in a failed attempt at speech.

"Oh my god," Bella's hand covered her dry mouth, her teeth biting into her tongue as her jaw snapped shut. "No, my father? My father _wanted_ me?! Like _that?!_ No, you're not serious, shut up, no. Oh my god." She took two steps back, nearly slipping into the icy water. "This is fucking _sick."_

"Bella," Morpheus placed his hand on hers, but she shoved him away, tittering over to lean against one of the pillars. She pressed her face into the cool stone, shutting her eyes as nausea brewed in her gut, clawing up her throat.

"Bella your mother was never going to let him take you." Hades was close behind her, his breath practically in her ear. He did not touch her. She was going to puke.

 _One. Two. Three. Stone in my skin, skin like stone, oh god, let me sink into the earth._ She begged the ground to open, swallow her, draw her deep beneath and let her lay in a tomb of ignorant bliss where she would never face an incestuous father and an isolating mother.

Bella had imagined her parents often, mostly as a younger child, when she still believed a parental presence could have solved all her problems. Parents who loved her and wanted her. Parents who were looking for her. A bedroom somewhere that belonged to her, sitting empty in a small town with farmland off a quiet back road where pancakes were made in the morning and conversations happened around tables in the evening. Where she and Alice could spend storms rocking in chairs on a porch with hot mugs of tea, rather than cowering under doorways and in alleyways.

She had never quite imagined faces, but she had been borderline obsessed with the hands of her parents. The soft, warm touch of a mother tucking a blanket around her sides and under her toes.

The worn hands of a father, careful with his daughters and as wrinkled as his smile.

Those hands would haunt her nightmares, now.

Bella choked.

"I'm sorry, sweet girl. We live in a cruel world, you know that more now than ever," Hades murmured. She could feel his heat on her back, but she refused to open her eyes.

"No one escapes death. When your mother realized there was no alternative, she called me—the only one capable of hiding anything away from your fa—from Zeus. I took you away into my kingdom and hid you away. She sent a guardian, a Sibyl from Delphi, to protect you. I never intended to fall in love with you, I believed you would bring trouble to my world and was nearly reluctant to bring you with me. But when we left your garden, when it was time to leave the only home you had ever known, you barely shed a tear while your mother practically howled with sorrow.

"I could see the pain in your eyes, the obvious fear in the tremor of your hands as you held your mother's cheeks, but you smiled."

Bella sobbed, bewildered by a deep, suddenly awakened pain that now blast through her chest. Snot dripped from her bright-red nose as she clutched the stone pillar, her mind stretching to expand around the loss of her life. She _missed_ this woman, her mother. She remembered nothing of those events, but dear god did her arms ache to wrap around Demeter.

Her memory was gone, but the pain was still fresh.

Bella turned, hands clutched in the fabric of Hades's clothes as she gasped for breath, her face pressed tightly into his shoulder. His arms wrapped tightly around her, lifting her from the ground as he continued to mummer in her ear. She could feel his throat vibrate as he spoke, his own voice nearly breaking.

"Persephone, Bella, in strength you have survived. The world is unfair, has been especially unfair, but in this sorrow I promise, we will prevail."

"God, that sounds so cheesy," Bella laughed hollowly. Five seconds. She would allow herself five seconds of comfort in this man's arms, her kidnapper. Another life. She counted them down, breathing deeply and focusing on the warmth of his strength. For five seconds, he was only the man who had finally explained everything, someone to comfort her.

Five seconds later, Bella pulled her arms away from Hades and stepped back. "God, I got snot on you."

"Considering the circumstances, I promise not to fault you for it." Hades smiled.

"Was that a joke? Dear god, do you _joke_ now?!" Morpheus cried in astonishment, barely ducking a blow from the infuriated lord.

"I'm okay," Bella promised. "That was just… I remember that, leaving her… It just sucks." Understatement of the century.

Hades watched her carefully, hope building a light behind his eyes.

"So, what happened? Did Demeter take me away?" Bella watched the three gods exchange looks and nearly laughed. "Wait, you don't know?"

"We suspect," Hecate confirmed. "But we hold no proof."

"You only… disappeared." Hades had looked away from Bella, his eyes glazed as he stared ahead, deep into the past. She wondered if he was picturing their last moments, maybe spent in this courtyard, or in some bed.

"Here one morning, gone the next. I searched endlessly, but you were hidden by something powerful. Demeter claimed ignorance, her passion to find you seemingly matched mine, but I was never certain it was earnest." Hades's chest heaved with a tired breath. He was insane, had kidnapped her and locked her up, but Bella at least understood what had pushed him so far off the ledge. She still hated him for it, but at least she saw the root of the madness.

"We honestly thought she had you locked up somewhere until he found you." Morpheus shook his head.

"I want to meet her." Bella rubbed her eyes, pulling the tears away with her thumbs as she sniffed. "I want to meet Demeter, but first I want to see Alice. Please."

"I'll begin preparing." Hecate more or less floated out of the courtyard, her feet barely leaving any ripples across the watery slate as she disappeared from sight. Morpheus wrapped an arm around Bella's shoulder and planted a wet kiss on her temple, tossing a wink at Hades as he left too quickly for either of them to react.

"Persephone," Hades began.

"Bella," she replied sharply.

"Bella." Could a god look awkward? Hades certainly did, his arms crossing and uncrossing before settling stiffly at his side. He looked entirely helpless and unsure. Bella almost felt powerful standing next to him, aged and confident compared to his childlike mannerisms. "Are you okay?" He asked quietly.

"Are you seriously asking me that?"

"Fair point." He ran a hand through his hair, catching a knot with his fingers and tugging on it absently. "I was genuine in my offer, you know. If you wish to return to your life with Alice or wish for any life absent from this, you are free to do so. You will not be held here, or forced to remain in my company should you not wish for it."

"I just, fuck." Bella rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands, sitting heavily back on the ground. Hades mimicked her, lowering slowly and wincing as the water seeped into his clothes. "I just want to be normal, but that's not going to happen, is it?"

He said nothing. She sighed.

"Hades, if this is going to work, if we're going to be, I don't know, okay with each other, you can't be my, what, keeper? You can't just follow me around like a ghost. I want to be equals, or something, if that's even possible since you're a _god_ for christ's sake"—she took a breath, blowing it out her nose and staring hard at the man in front of her, his eyes pleading—"Listen, I need you to be honest with me, from here on out. You kidnapped me. You held me hostage, away from my sister. It's not like I'll just forget that and call it cool."

"It was a mistake I will forever regret." His voice was hollow with regret. Bella was nearly sympathetic. She might have even cried for him if he hadn't been such a crazy psycho for every day leading up to this.

"I promise, however, I will prove to you that I am not truly the man you first believed me to be. Believe me to be." He corrected quickly, acknowledging Bella's skeptical look.

"Yeah, big talk," Bella muttered.

"I spoke largely?" His brow furled.

Bella laughed, shaking her head. "Never mind, old man."

Hades scowled in obvious irritation and Bella laughed again, her cheeks red and her throat raw as she smiled. Hades hesitantly smiled back.

Bella was going to be free, and Hades was going with her. Things were uncertain, both of them balancing on a fractured beam threatening to collapse at any minute. Time moved on, however, and Bella had to resist imagining what could possibly be on the other side.

She had never thought too far ahead, only wanting stability for herself and Alice. A place for them both, a job without judgment, maybe even school or, god forbid, college. A way back onto their feet, together.

Looking at Hades, a smile on both their faces, she wondered: What kind of future stared back at her now?

* * *

Thanks for sticking with me. Thoughts and considerations welcomed. Next chapter we head up above ground and check in with the human world, and see where the heck Alice is at.

 _ **Still seeking a beta**_ -if you have any interest or know where I could find one, that would also be very welcomed.

You're all amazing and deserve an equally unique, amazing day.

-O.K.


	9. Chapter 9

An update on Alice and her rescuer. I hope you're all doing well and not drowning in midterms.

If you sneeze at any point reading this, bless you.

And on we go.

O.K.

* * *

The sound of Alice's heel tapping on the floor echoed throughout the open loft. Her hand was clenched in a fist on her bouncing knee, tissues still shoved up her nose. She tried to avoid catching her reflection, but it was impossible with the wall-to-wall windows and floor-length mirrors. She focused her gaze on her feet instead, mentally willing the dirt to disappear from her grimy shoes. Thankfully, she had managed to not leave any black footprints on the carpeting.

"You're going to make the neighbors downstairs think there's an earthquake."

Alice's gaze jerked up. Somehow she had managed to hear the woman over the cluster of noise filling her brain, tendrils of static spreading through her air and probing up her nose as it throttled her tongue.

"I'm sorry," Alice said.

"Here." The woman passed Alice a glass mug. The string to a tea bag was tied loosely around the handle, anchoring a bag of leaves inside.

She took a sip, wrapping her fingers around the burning glass. "I'm sorry you had to do that, get involved with this, I promise I'll be gone soon."

The woman smiled and eased down onto the loveseat in front of Alice. Every movement was fluid, a human feather drifting onto the leather seat. Her long blonde hair was pulled softly into a knot at the back of her neck with all the feminine beauty of an elite businesswoman at the peak of her power. It would make sense for this woman to be a CEO or something, judging by the state of the loft and the doorman who had managed to avoid staring too long when they had entered the tower of apartments. What type of one-percenter like this stopped to help random bleeding people on the street?

 _She wants something._

Alice clenched her mug, her fingers burning as the hot glass bit into her skin. _You're in danger. She wants something from you, this woman is with them, police, someone, see the black and the end of this light and understand the tunnel you fall through—_

"Oh dear, you're going to spill your tea."

Two hands reached forward to steady Alice's arms, clasping her elbows as her trembles slowly quieted. Alice jerked back. _Something is wrong._ Her chest was burning. She could see the static in the edges of her vision, threatening to swallow the sweet face smiling in front of her. Rosy cheeks and gentle eyes. _Snake._

"Breathe, dear. You've been to hell and back, you're having a panic attack. Just breathe."

Alice, despite herself, sucked a whistling breath between her teeth.

"There you go. In and out. Breathe from your bellybutton out, deep breaths. Easy." A soft hand rubbed circles on Alice's back. Static faded from the edges of her vision as the world righted itself, her chest easing to only the dull pressure of withdrawal.

"Shhh, there you go," the woman murmured. Her hand pulled the mug away as she wrapped Alice's sweaty palms between her own slim hands.

Expensive perfume filled Alice's nose, erasing thick scent of blood and Kleenex. She couldn't remember the last time she had been mothered, and now, within the past few hours, two strange women had clasped her cold hands within their own. Anchored her to reality and silenced the screams that rocked her sanity. The idea made her shift in her seat and pull back, but the woman hung on.

"My son had similar attacks when he was young. It was an absolute terror to try and break him out of them, I think I may still have some of his medication somewhere, actually. Hold on." She was gone again, up in a wave of expensive designer clothing and citrus perfume. Alice breathed.

It was anything but a panic attack, but she wasn't about to share that. No need to inform the woman who had rescued her from the police that she was haunted by voices in her head.

She wouldn't think of Jasper's face either as he watched her drive away, or of Esme's warmth as she had silenced the chaos in her mind.

They were strangers, they had no business wading into her problems like ducks on a pond. These were her depths to explore, she would not allow them to entertain their savior complex. Especially that Esme woman. _Didn't she say she worked at a church? Of course, she does. She seems like the shallow type; she's probably gossiping about the strange girl already._ Visions of Esme giggling and waving a hand over the counter as she and Jasper recapped their _simply preposterous_ day filled the space behind Alice's eyelids.

She just needed to leave, as soon as possible, so she could get back to the streets and look for Bella.

Alice stood, the door looming at the end of the hall directly in front of her—a clear shot.

She studied the knob, glanced in the direction the woman had disappeared in and turned around.

The windows swallowed her small frame as she pressed her toes against the molding along the floor, careful not to leave any trace of her breath against the glass as she stood as close as she dared.

If she pretended, for a moment, that the glass was not real, that the corners were only the skeleton to an apartment in the sky, she could nearly believe she was flying. Somewhere, above a city pulsing with ribbons of life as cars maneuvered the streets and distant lights flickered on against the approaching evening, she could exist beyond it all.

Alice crossed her arms as a shiver ran down her spine. How many people, how many stories were playing out beneath her in that instant? How many endings, beginnings, crisscrosses in time?

Was this what movie stars felt like, staring at the world from the opposite side of the screen?

"That view really never gets old. I could spend eons staring at it."

Alice spun, cheeks bright red. "God, sorry, I just…" She trailed off, unsure why she was apologizing, yet ashamed to be caught in her fantasy.

The woman, always smiling, held out her hand—two small white pills cupped inside.

"They're Xanax, a low dose, I promise. They might just make you feel a bit tired," the woman reassured her, misunderstanding Alice's hesitation.

She was all too familiar with the pills, not that it mattered.

It never mattered, as long as they did something.

She could feel the sweat under her arms and on her chest as a shiver traveled down her body, snot threatening to drip from her nose. She could only imagine how ghastly she looked under the bright lighting, between the withdrawal and the nosebleed.

 _She wants something._

No drugs were ever free. Nothing was ever free.

"I'm okay. I just need to get going, I'm sorry you got involved in this mess." Alice shook her head, turning to leave.

"Hun." The woman grabbed Alice's arm. The grip was too tight to be real, it had to be over-sensitivity due to the panic in her brain, still, Alice couldn't help but flinch as cool fingers dug into her bicep.

"You're in no state to go wander the streets, you need to calm down. Please, allow a mother the chance to take care of someone." Did this woman ever stop smiling? Did her eyes ever show anything other than unending kindness?

Images of warm fires and mugs of tea filled Alice's mind—designer dresses and laughter over television shows as mother and daughter held hands, grinning. She shut her eyes against them.

"Be honest with yourself, hun. You won't find anyone in this state. You're falling apart."

 _I'm falling apart._

Alice opened her eyes and took a deep breath.

She never accepted help from anyone. She could handle herself, and this woman had no business trying to care for her.

But she couldn't find Bella when she could barely find her way out of her own mind.

The pills slid easily down her throat, no water needed. Alice allowed the woman to lead her back to the couch as she pulled a blanket over her, tucking it around Alice's shoulders.

"Thank you," Alice murmured haltingly.

"Oh, hun." The woman traced a finger against Alice's cheek, tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear. "Call me Hera."

"Thanks, Hera." Alice could feel the Xanax still to kick in. A cloud of bleak smoke swallowed her brain, encouraging her to bury her thoughts in the murkiness of her mind. She grabbed the edges of the blanket around her shoulders, her heavy fingers dragging with the movement.

"There you go." The woman, Hera, stood, grabbing a cream-colored pillow from another chair and propping it behind Alice. "Lay down for a bit and rest. I promise, when you wake up we can go look for your sister. Right now, please, just rest."

Alice nodded dully.

The last time. This was the last time she would do this, so she could find Bella.

"Okay." She agreed. In the warmth of the blankets and the heaviness of her bones, Alice wondered why she ever suspected this woman of anything. Why she ever suspected _anyone_ of anything.

"Get some sleep," Hera murmured, flicking off the lights as she turned to stare out the windows at the city, throbbing with light and noise unheard from within the enclosed loft. "Gods know you've earned some rest."

* * *

A shorter chapter, as it felt like a good place to end and I didn't like the way it was flowing originally when I combined it with what I originally had planned out.

All of your thoughts, reviews, favorites, and reads are beyond appreciated. Thank you for your kind words and your unending patience.

Until next time,

O.K.


End file.
